Wanderer
by Jack Cross
Summary: A dead wife, a lost son, and a heart full of vengeance. Former Army rifleman Nate sets out into the Commonwealth not only to recover that which was lost and claim revenge, but find his place in this world. But the road is long, and winding, and not always clear. Not all those who Wander are lost.
1. The Great Green Jewel

**Hey guys, JC here with another new story. It's been a while since I wrote a Fallout story, and I've been playing a lot of Fallout 4 lately so I figured it was time to get a new thing out.**

Piper Wright could not believe the week she was having. First, the lead on a story she had tracked down in Goodneighbor turned out to be a bust. Then, when she had returned home to Diamond City she found the gate closed and herself barred from entry. As if to add insult to injury, she could hear the sounds of gunfire as a firefight raged between Diamond City Security and a group of Super Mutants less then a block away. Well, she had been listening anyway, the sounds had died down just a short while ago.

"What do you mean you can't open the gate?" she asked, speaking into the intercom that sat next to the gate, "Stop joking around, Danny. I'm standing out in the open for crying out loud!"

 _"_ _I got orders not to let you in, Ms. Piper. I'm sorry. I'm just doing my job."_ That was the voice of Danny Sullivan from the other end of the intercom. He sounded stressed and put on the spot, but Piper didn't care. In fact, she was starting to get aggravated.

"Oh, 'just doing your job?' Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it? 'Oh look, it's the scary reporter.' Boo!" she said, flailing her arms toward intercom like she was attempting to frighten a child on Halloween.

 _"_ _I'm sorry, but Mayor McDonough_ _s really steamed, Piper. Sayin' that article you wrote was all lies. The whole city is in a tizzy."_ Now Piper was mad. The mayor of Diamond City himself had ordered her to be kept out, all because of an article she'd wrote. Seriously? What happened to freedom of speech? Freedom of the press?

"Aagh!" she howled in frustration, "You open this gate right now, Danny Sullivan! I live here, you can't just lock me out!" With that, the intercom fell silent. No doubt, Danny was going to give her the silent treatment in an effort to try and make her go away. If she continued with her current approach, she'd just be wasting her breath. Arguing with a metal box rarely got anyone anywhere.

With a sigh, Piper turned away from the intercom. She needed a new angle, a new way to get in. What she found was herself being watched by a man and his dog.

He was tall, with his build being a decent balance between muscular and thin. His face was roughly handsome, despite the burn scars that dominated his right cheek and up across the bridge of his nose to the middle of his forehead. He wore a well trimmed beard on his jaw and cheeks. His steel colored eyes didn't seem to miss a thing as he watched her make a fool of herself in front of the gate.

The German Shepard that sat next to him was looking back and forth between herself and his master, seemingly curious about what was going on. The lit cigarette that hung from his mouth had a waft of blue smoke drifting upwards past the brim of his battered fedora. The surveyor's outfit he wore was splashed with dust and dried mud. And, he was heavily armed from what she could see. A scoped hunting rifle was slung across his back, and a pair of 10mm pistols were sitting in holsters on a belt around his waist.

Then, like a bolt of lightning, an idea struck Piper.

"You," she said, half whispering and motioning for the man to come closer, "you want into Diamond City right?" He took a few paces closer before coming to a halt and folding his arms across his chest.

"Just traveling through," he replied at a normal tone. Piper almost cringed at the fact that her plan was so nearly blown before it even got off the ground, but she could work with what she had.

"Shh!" she snapped, holding up her hands in a shushing motion, "Play along." If Danny wanted to give her the silent treatment, that was one thing. But bluffing her way into the city was an art form that Piper had mastered long ago. She knew that the infernal little box on the wall was always listening.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice returning to normal volume, "You said you're a trader up from Quincy? You have enough supplies to keep the general store stocked for a whole month?" The man's expression didn't change. He just continued to stand there and watch her, like he was analyzing every secret she'd ever had. Deep down, this put Piper a little on edge. But she wasn't about to let that upset her plan for getting back in.

"You hear that, Danny?" she asked over her shoulder, "You gonna let us in, or are you gonna be the one talking to crazy Mirnya about losing out on all the supply?"

 _"_ _Geez, all right! No need to make it personal, Piper. Give me a minute."_ The giant green and rusted colored gate began to creak as it was lifted away, and Piper smiled in victory. Another bluff paid off.

"Better head inside, before 'ole Danny catches onto the bluff," she said to the newcomer. The man watched as the gate was lifted well out of reach before he unfolded his left arm in a sweeping gesture.

"You first," he said. Piper gave the man a smirking grin.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," she said before turning and leading the way into the city gates. What had once been the admission and food stands for the stadium was now a command post for Security. It was dark inside the wall, with light coming from a few fire barrels and some electric lights on the ceiling.

Waiting for them was the Mayor himself. Piper was instantly floored at the sight of the politician. This last attempt to keep her out was the tip of the proverbial iceberg of issues between herself and the man.

"Piper, who let you back inside? I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut!" McDonough said. Piper came to a halt before the mayor, a grin on her face. She'd gotten under his skin with her success, she was going to revel in it, and she wanted him to know it.

"You devious, rabble-rousing slanderer! The level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I'll have it scrapped for parts." Piper's grin instantly vanished, replaced with a look of anger. Attacking her was one thing, attacking the paper was something else. The newspaper was her life's work. She had dedicated herself to telling the people the truth, and nothing but the truth, no matter what.

"Oh, is that a statement, Mr. McDonough? 'Tyrant Mayor shuts down the press'," she said, throwing her hand upward like she was broadcasting the next headline. The two stared each other down in anger for a moment. They each held the fate of the others career in their hands, and they both knew it.

The soft whine of a dog caused Piper's ears to perk up, suddenly remembering the newcomer that was watching all of this unfold. Granted, she knew absolutely nothing about the guy. But she also knew her opponent, very well at that.

"Why don't we ask the newcomer?" she asked before turning to the man, "Do you support the news? Cause the mayor's threatening to throw free speech in the dumpster." The mayor was, first and foremost, a politician. That meant that now that she'd dragged the new guy into the argument, he'd have no choice but to retreat and change tactics in an effort to save some face.

"This really isn't any of my business," he replied, looking back and forth between the two curiously. For the first time, the Mayor seemed to take notice of the newcomer.

"Oh, I didn't mean to bring you into this argument, good sir," he said, his posture changing as he adjusted his tie, "No, you look like Diamond City material. Welcome to the great green jewel of the Commonwealth. Safe. Happy. A fine place to come, spend your money, settle down. Don't let this muckraker here tell you otherwise, alright?" Piper couldn't help but roll her eyes at the Mayor's sales pitch. If McDonough had his way, the outside world would believe that the city streets were paved in gold, and every time it rained caps fell from the sky inside the wall.

The man took a last drag from his cigarette before flicking it away in a shower of sparks. All the years interviewing people all across the Commonwealth had tuned Piper into the body language of other people, and it was clear that this man was not impressed by the Mayor's sales pitch.

"This hasn't been the friendliest welcome," he said. Piper flashed a toothy grin.

"He's got you there, McDonough. Guess not everyone is won over by that shark smile of yours." The Mayor waved her off, returning his attention to the newcomer.

"Was there anything in particular you came to our city for?" he asked. Piper perked up slightly, interested in hearing what the man had to say. Her natural curiosity had always left her wanting to know more about every person she met.

"Not really your business," he said, a hint of venom in his voice. Piper instantly got the feeling that this man didn't like having his personal things being prodded into. That, or the Mayor had left a very bad first impression on him.

"Well, whatever you do, don't bother going to Diamond City Security for help," she said.

"I've had enough of this, Piper!" the Mayor snapped, throwing his hands in the air, "From now on, consider yourself and that little sister of yours on notice."

"Yeah, keeping talking McDonough, that's all you're good for," she quipped as the Mayor walked away. Turing back to the newcomer, Piper studied him again. He had folded his arms again as they watched the Mayor go, and she couldn't believe that she hadn't seen it earlier. On his left wrist was a Pip-Boy.

That told her one of two things about his background. Either he was a well off scavenger, or he was a Vault Dweller. The way he eyed everything with a warily look told her that the latter was more likely. Suddenly, an idea for a new article popped into her head.

"Hm, a big Diamond City welcome from the mayor. You feel honored yet?" she asked. He blinked once as he regarded her, but other then that he remained silent. She'd only known him for ten minutes, and Piper got the feeling that this was the most tight lipped man she had ever met.

"Look I gotta go get settled in. But, stop by my office later, I have an idea for an article that you'd be perfect for," she said. With that, she turned and walked into the city, eager to get to her place of business and her home should the Mayor decide to make good on his threats for once.

* * *

Nate looked out over the whole of Diamond City, partially in awe. It wasn't the size of the settlement that wowed him, or the defenses. It was the fact that people had managed to do so much with a baseball park. The ingenuity and cleverness that had gone into this place was impressive to say the least.

That, and he would be lying if he said seeing Fenway Park as a shantytown didn't make him want to giggle like a little school girl. Even after two hundred and ten years, he still hated the Red Sox with a burning passion. Not that anyone really knew or cared after two centuries.

Sticking a new cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with his lighter, Nate headed down the stairs toward home plate and the market. Part of him wanted to go around, asking anyone and everyone about his son. The other part, the logical part, told him to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut.

Nate had been a designated marksman during his time in the Army. It was a skill that translated very well to the hardships of post apocalyptic life. When he'd first emerged from Vault 111 almost a month ago, that meant hunting for food. Then he'd started branching out, taking odd jobs. He found that mercenary work suited him, and thanks to his hunting and scavenging trips he knew almost every hiding spot across the northern frontier of the Commonwealth.

But this, this was his first incursion into the actual city of Boston itself. Sure, he'd been to Bunker Hill, several times in fact. He'd even been into East Boston working a job for Kessler, the leader of the Hill. But Cambridge and almost the entirety of the city south of the Charles River he had avoided like the plague. Two hundred years after the collapse of society, Boston was a battleground between Raiders, Gunners, and Super Mutants.

Diamond City, to be fair, was located in the western outskirts of the city. So for Nate, a trip to the Great Green Jewel wasn't that hard to plan and execute. But he had accidentally wandered into the middle of a firefight between Diamond City Security and a group of Super Mutants, and he had a feeling that was just a taste of what awaited deeper in the city.

Compared to the outside, the Diamond City inside the walls was paradise. Granted the majority of the streets were little more then wooden pallets thrown down on top of the mud, and the buildings were basicly tin siding and other bits of junk thrown together, but Nate figured that beat getting shot at on a regular basis by a long shot.

The Rifleman wandered the bases, getting a feel for the city layout as well as searching for anyone who might help. According to that Piper woman he'd met, asking Security would be a bust. The vendors in the market were all too busy selling their wares for them to even notice his snooping around, much less offer any help.

As he started to make a second pass, he noticed a bar called the Dugout Inn. It was, as the name implied, built into one of the stadium's old dugouts. He made quick note of it, knowing he'd have to find a place to sleep for the night before all was said and done. When he reached second base for the second time, he took notice of an alleyway that passed between the buildings. His first circling had taken him through the old outfield, past the Wall and the areas where the city's food supplies were grown.

Heading down this small alleyway, Nate felt a glimmer of hope. It was a red neon sigh hanging in the wall: Valentine Detective Agency. Next to the lettering was a heart with an arrow through it. Considering the location, he figured it was a fifty fifty shot that this place was either a brothel or an actual detective agency. Seeing no other alternative, he headed down the small hallway that the sigh pointed down and opened the door.

Granted, Nate wasn't sure what to expect from a shantytown Detective Agency. But it wasn't exactly this. The whole place was messy and unorganized. Filing cabinets lined both walls. A desk sat directly in front of the door, like whomever was on the other side would be greeting new comers. Standing with her back to him across the room was a young woman. She was leafing through boxes of files and muttering to herself. She was so distracted that he wondered if she'd even heard him come in.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked. The woman jumped, almost dropping the box she had been looking through.

"Another stray coming in from the rain," she said to herself before turning to face him, "'Fraid you're too late, office is closed."

"Sorry, Ms. I'll come back later," Nate said, tipping the brim of his hat as he turned to head out the door.

"No, that's not what I mean. We're not closed for the day, we're closed permanently," she said, stopping him, "the detective's gone missing."

"Picture on milk carton time?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he turned to face her again.

"If only it was that simple, right? Nick disappeared working a case. Skinny Malone's gang had kidnapped a young woman and he tracked them down to their hideout in Park Street Station. There's an old Vault down there they use a base. I told Nick he was walking into a trap, but he just smiled and walked out the door like he always does," the woman explained, sadness in her voice.

Ordinary, Nate would have set up a means of payment in a situation like this. The Commonwealth operated on a give and take system, and deals usually were made that benefited both parties. In this case, however, he knew that he'd need this Nick person's help in tracking down those who had killed his wife and taken his son. Besides, if all else failed, saving this guy's hide could serve as his means of payment for services.

"I'll find him, Ms..?"

"Oh! Perkins, Ellie Perkins," she said, extending her hand to shake. Nate shook it lightly.

"I'll get him back," he said before releasing her hand, tipping the brim of his hat again, and strolling out the door. Now back in the alley, Nate brought up his Pip Boy and studied the map. And he didn't like what he saw. From what he could tell, Park Street Station was located on the edge of the Boston Common, right smack dab in the heart of the city.

A whine brought his attention away from the device on his wrist to his ever faithful canine companion. The dog cocked his head to the side, as if asking a silent question. Nate lowered his arm and scratched the dog behind the ears.

"Whatya think, boy? We read for a trip into the heart of the city?" The dog wined and covered his snout with his paw. Nate snorted at the response.

"Yeah, I didn't think so either." Readjusting his rifle, Nate set off toward the Market again. The sky was beginning to turn red as the sun sank lower. As he rounded the corner into the Market, his eye was drawn to a sign hanging on the wall. It was a poster for bounties.

Nate read it over with interest as he took a long drag on his cigarette. The poster was a notice about ghouls that were in and around the Mass Pike Tunnel. It promised good salvage as well as a good time to anyone with a gun and some ambition. Other then that, the note was anonymous, and offered no form of payment other then what was found on the bodies.

"Swatter, swatter, swatter, who needs a swatter?" shouted an older man wearing a baseball uniform in the vendor next to him. Nate left the notice hanging and dropped his cigarette into the mud. Bounties like that offered little in the way of money, and therefore didn't interest him.

"You there, you look like you need a genuine, authentic, custom made hickory swatter," the vendor said, pointing at Nate.

"Swatter?" he asked. Was he referring to the baseball bats?

"Rookie, eh? A swatter, my friend, is a Diamond City tradition. See it use to be that this whole place was a stadium. And two teams would meet and play a game called baseball." Nate had to grit his teeth in an effort not to roll his eyes. He knew the history, hell he'd been here when this place still was a baseball stadium.

"One team would beat the other team to death with these things called Baseball Bats. And the best Bats were called Swatters, true fact!" he declared. Nate blinked as what the man had just said registered in his mind. Did he just say that baseball was a gladiatorial sport? Seriously?

"Look, dumbass. That's not how baseball was played," he said.

"That right, Mr. Smarty-Pants? If you're such an expert, how do you think it was played?"

"There were balls, strikes, bases, and home runs. You kept score by how many players made it to home plate," he deadpanned. The man fell silent for a few moments.

"...I like my version better," he finally said. Nate let out a tired sigh before he turned and walked away. He walked up to the stand at the center of the Market and flopped down on one of the stools. He buried his face in his hands, covering a yawn that betrayed how tired he was.

 _"_ _Na-ni shimasho-ka?"_ Nate looked up to find himself looking at a light green Protectron with a chief's hat on the top of its dome.

"What?"

 _"_ _Na-ni shimasho-ka?"_

"Do yourself a favor and just say yes, that's all he understands," a woman sitting near him said. Nate looked at her, and then back at the robot with a small grin. He could have some fun with this.

"Tell me a joke."

 _"_ _Na-ni shimasho-ka?"_ With that, he stood up and began to walk toward the city entrance. It had been a very, very long day, and he was ready for some sleep. When he stood on home plate, Nate came to a halt. The Dugout Inn was off to his left, and starting to look real inviting now that the sun was going down. But to his right was the newspaper office that Piper woman had vanished into. Publick Occurrences was it's name, according to the sign on the roof.

Oh well, now was as good time as any to see what she wanted.

Stepping through the door, Nate was surprised to see Piper leaning against an old newspaper stand. She had a lit cigarette in her hand, and her posture suggested that she had been waiting on something or someone. Her face visibly brightened when she saw him.

"Glad you dropped by," she said, putting the cigarette out, "you holdin' up, Blue?" Nate cocked his eyebrow in confusion at her.

"Why are you calling me that?" he asked.

"Cause you're a Vault Dweller? I know you're not wearing the blue jumpsuit, but the Pip Boy and the way you eye everything? Dead giveaways," she replied. Nate silently cursed. He wanted to keep that little fact hidden, and hidden well. From what he had seen, Vault Dwellers were major targets out in the Commonwealth for anyone trying to make a quick score.

"That, and you still haven't introduced yourself..."

"Nate, Nate Adams," Nate said. Piper flashed him a smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Adams. So hears the deal, I want an interview, your life's story in print. I want to give the people of Diamond City an outsiders' perspective on the Commonwealth. You do that...and I'll come with you, watch your back while you get use to the world above ground," the reporter purposed.

Nate was already frowning when she said the word interview. This whole time, he'd been trying to stay on the down low. Hell this woman was the only person in the whole of the settlement that knew his name. And now she wanted to go and put his entire life story in print. Besides, he had enough time on the surface to get around and do his job without any effort. Someone watching his back, aside from the dog, might just slow him down. He stuck another cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

"Here's your headline," he said as he blew blue smoke upward, "'Local man says no.'"

"Gonna be like that, huh? Smartass. Alright we'll do this later, but I want that interview, you got me?" she said, pointing a finger at him to make a point. He smiled and tipped the brim of his hat at the reporter.

"You have a nice evenin' now, Ms. Piper," he said before he turned and stepped out into the night.

 **And there it is, the beginning of a new story. Hopefully you guys found it enjoyable and got your Fallout fill for the day. I wanted to get this out on the 23rd in honor of the Great War and what not, but real life delayed me. Drop a review, leave a PM, let me know what you liked or didn't like, ask questions, state what you would like to see, and I'll see you all in the next one.**


	2. The Combat Zone

**Hey guys, I got a new chapter up. A few of you were asking if Nate was going to hook up with Cait or Piper. I'll leave that discussion for the end of this chapter. Now, considering I forgot to do this last chapter, I better get it out of the way.**

 **I do not, in anyway, shape, or form own Fallout. I'd be one rich bastard if I did.**

Thunder rumbled through the night, and lightning flashed, illuminating the ruined buildings of Boston's old theater district. Rain poured down in sheets, turning the rubble filled street into a quagmire of water and mud. A single raider slogged his way through the downpour and the mud, muttering to himself about what sounded like someone sneaking around in the storm.

Another clap of thunder covered the sound of a shotgun blast. The raider didn't hear it, but he definitely felt it when all that buckshot slammed into his chest. In an instant, he was on his back in the mud, struggling to get air into his collapsed lungs. His situation wasn't helped much by the gas mask he was wearing.

Suddenly a figure appeared over him, blocking the pelting rain from coming down on his face. It was a young woman with flame red hair, pale skin, and freckles. She grinned down at him, despite the water pouring down her face and hair.

"Night, night, ye we little shite!" she said as she leveled her double barrel shotgun. And the last thing the raider ever saw was the twin dark holes of the barrels, followed by a bright flash and a deafening bang.

 _ **Two Hours Earlier.**_

The thunderstorm that rumbled outside did little to disturb the action of the Combat Zone. In fact, between the constant yelling and all around varying states of drunkenness and drug induced hazes, it was doubtful that anyone was even aware of what was going on outside. Everyone was focused on what was going on inside of the cage.

The raider, a kid who had let his pride, ego, and one too many drinks get the best of him, was backed against the edge of the cage. Cait swung her bat, slamming it into his gut, no doubt breaking a few ribs and bruising his internal organs at the least. The kid fell to his hands and knees, the contents of his stomach spewed out of his mouth on to the floor as he vomited from the force of the blow.

Cait wasted no time and didn't allow him a chance to recover. She raised the bat over her head and brought it down on his at full force. He was forced face down into the puddle of his own vomit. A mumbled plea for mercy came from his lips as he tried to force himself back up. But the words were lost to the young Irishwoman as she brought the bat down on his head again, this time crushing his skull in the process.

Cait threw her hands into the air, holding her bloody bat over her head as a means of showing off her victory. The crowd roared with approval, while others were in disappointment. But it was clear that they were all thirsty for more. At the entrance to the old theater, no one noticed a newcomer walk in.

Nate looked over the interior of the Combat Zone, a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. He'd never been one for theaters in his old life. Sure, his wife had dragged him to a play or two when they were first married, just before he'd shipped out for Alaska. Plays and musicals were not really his style, his form of entertainment.

Cage Fighting though, THAT held his interest. It was the main reason he was here. He'd heard roomers about this place called the Combat Zone, and had decided to come check it out. So far he wasn't disappointed. This was the kind of place he could get use to in terms of getting drunk and having entertainment.

In the month that had passed since his first visit to Diamond City, Nate had made several incursions deeper and deeper into the heart of Boston. His main staging point was from Bunker Hill, so he had a lot of the North End and Beacon Hill covered. He'd even made it to Goodneighbor, and found the Third Rail to be a decent place to get a drink and find work.

He had also made it to Park Street Station, and found this Nick Valentine guy he'd said he'd go after. Valentine, it turned out, was a synth. How he was able to operate out of Diamond City, a place that was so bat shit terrified of synths, was beyond Nate. But the two had agreed to meet back up in Diamond City at Nick's office and go from there. Then they parted ways, with Nick heading west to Diamond City, and Nate heading south, deeper into the ruins.

This trip to the Combat Zone marked the deepest he'd ever been into the city since the bombs fell. Nate hoped that perhaps he could relieve a little stress by watching some of the fights or maybe even having a drink or two. That woman who was in the cage now was a brutal one, and she wasn't bad on the eyes either.

"And that concludes this round. Cait is the undisputed winner!" A man standing at the base of the stage shouted into a microphone. People yelled, and caps were exchanged back and fourth. Nate walked closer, eager to get a better look at what was going on. The dog at his side panted happily as he looked around at all the excitement.

"And who's this?" the announcer said, taking notice of him despite the gloom. Nate stepped forward, the lights from the stage starting to illuminate him. As he got a better look around him, he felt a ping of nervousness. All of the patrons were raiders. Every. Single. One. The clicks of safety's being taken off weapons began to fill the air.

"Wait, who let you...Buddy, I'd find some cover quick!" With that, both the announcer and Cait sprinted for cover. Nate hands reacted faster then he did. In a flash, both 10mm pistols were in his hands. He fired one shot from each, cutting down a raider who had just sprung to his feet at the base of the stage.

And then all hell broke loose.

The roar of gunfire filled the air as half a dozen raiders unloaded their weapons at him. Nate sprinted to his left, diving head first over the bar that was there. As he looked up, he realized that a raider that had been serving as a bartender was scrambling to grab his double barrel shotgun. He fired once, shooting the man right between the eyes.

Bullets tore bottles and other bits of junk off the top of the bar as he slid his back up against the wood. Reaching into his satual, Nate produced a fragmentation grenade. He pulled the pin and tossed it over the bar, praying that he was able to hit something. He was rewarded with an explosion, followed closely by the screams of several wounded and dying raiders.

Peaking over the edge of the bar, Nate saw one of the survivors attempt jump up onto the cage. Maybe he was trying to get a better shot, maybe he was trying to get to safety. He'd never know, as the dog latched onto the man's leg. He screamed in both pain and terror as he struggled to hold on to the cage, and then he was dragged down out of sight and he fell silent.

Hoping out of his cover Nate walked forward and began to fire at Raiders located in the suspended areas overhead. A Molotov cocktail shattered on a tabletop behind him, forcing him to hunch down as a fireball rolled upward. He turned and shot the woman who had thrown it twice in the chest, sending her falling backwards over the side the catwalk she was on.

A man in a gas mask appeared out of one of the shacks, a lit Molotov raised over his head. Nate saw him, and fired the pistol in his right hand. The rifleman couldn't believe his dumb luck when the Molotov exploded in the raider's hand, consuming the man in a ball of fire and igniting the shack he was standing on.

Silence fell over the entire theater, aside from the crackling of flames from the dying fires. Nate slid a new clip into each pistol as he looked around, expecting more enemies to fight. The place where he'd thrown the grenade contained shattered chairs and mutilated bodies. No one was left alive. Not even the raider that had attempted to climb the cage, as the dog had torn out his throat.

"We don't want any trouble! Not anymore at least," came the announcer's voice. Both he and Cait had taken cover in the cage. Nate holstered his pistols and started toward them, dropping his now ruined cigarette from his mouth.

"Oh just peak your head out, ya damn coward," Cait said.

"To hell with that, I'm too pretty to go out like this." The rifleman made his way into the cage, sticking a new cigarette in his mouth as he went. The announcer, a ghoul, stood when he realized that Nate's pistols were in their holsters.

"It's over," he said, breathing a sigh of relief, "well, that could have gone worse."

"I dunno. Seemed like quite the performance from where I was standin'," Cait said.

"Are you fucking high or something? Why am I asking, of course you are."

"Still won the fight didn't I?"

"You're strung out and getting sloppy is what you are. Course it seems I ain't gotta worry about that now, as it seems this one just put us out of business," the announcer said. Nate watched the two talk back and forth between themselves as he lit his cigarette. The ghoul turned to face him fully.

"I'm not sure if I should kiss you or have my little bird here feed you your own entrails," he said, now directly addressing Nate.

"I told ya to quit callin me that!" Cait snapped.

"You the owner? Your place is a goddamn fire hazard," Nate said, ignoring Cait. As if on cue, the shack that had the Molotov explode in it creaked, and then collapsed into a pile of smoldering wood.

"I rest my case," he said, gesturing toward the pile of debris.

"Look jackass, keeping those idiots entertained was what kept us in caps," the ghoul said.

"Ta hell with 'em! More will come, just need a quick breather and I can get right back to it!" Cait said.

"A breather? What, so you can slam more of that junk into your arm? No, no, you know what, I think this was a blessing in disguise," he said before returning his attention to Nate, "you caught the end of that bout, what did you think of Cait's work?" The Rifleman eyed the cage fighter as he removed the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled a small cloud of smoke.

"She's clearly talented," he said, motioning to the dead raider that lay on the floor between them.

"See, least someone knows skill when they see it," she said.

"It ain't your fightin' skills I'm concerned with. So here's my predicament, I suddenly got no audience. No audience means I got no caps coming in," he said before turning to Cait, "And if you ain't bringing in caps, little bird, you ain't an asset, you're a liability, both to me and yourself." Nate noticed the frown forming on Cait's face, and his hand snaked closer to his pistol again.

"So here's what I'm thinking. What say I let you take over her contract? She goes with you, watches your back...look you'd be doing me a favor while I try to get the place back in working order. What do ya say?" he asked.

"Me...and him?!" Cait asked, dumbstruck. She didn't sound overly thrilled about the idea. In fact, it sounded like she'd just gotten set up on a date with her cousin or something. Nate took another drag before answering.

"I'd like to know what Cait thinks," he said.

"Don't I get a say in all this?" she asked.

"That ain't how a contract works. Besides, you really want to stay here? No audience, no caps, no one to talk to but yours truly."

"Jesus. Point taken." The announcer flashed her a grin.

"That a girl. So, she's on board. Now what about you?" he asked. Nate remained silent for a moment as he considered the options. Part of the reason he was able to get around was the fact that he'd been on his own for so long. The dog didn't slow him down, and in fact had proven to be useful several times.

On the other end of the spectrum, it would be nice to have someone watching his back that had more then just teeth to work with. That, and conversation with the dog was getting boring, if not a little troubling for his mental state. Besides, she pretty decent looking as well. An improvement over just the dog to say the least.

"Fine," he sighed, not overly eager about the arrangement.

"Good, it's settled then. Oh and here, take this, it's the purse from the last fight. Call it an exterminator's fee," the announcer said as he tossed Nate a small sack of caps.

"Now just wait a second. What exactly are you gonna do without me here?" Cait asked.

"You don't need to worry about me. I'll get this place cleaned up, maybe get a little less blood soaked clientele. Now get the hell outa here. You ain't welcome anymore, little bird."

"You're a real son of a bitch, ya know that, Tommy?"

"You don't have to tell me." With that, Cait stormed off. Nate watched her go for a moment, before turning his attention to the smoldering pile of wood, and then back to Tommy.

"Good luck with that," he said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Here's her contract," Tommy said as he handed a sheet of paper to him, "take it and get out." Nate took the contract and looked it over as he turned and walked out of the cage. He was still reading it when he came upon Cait, who was leaning against a post with a small pack, waiting on him.

"Listen, pal, if ya thinkin' that little shite piece of paper means ya can boss me around, ya got another thing comin'," she said. He tucked her contract away into his satual before removing his cigarette from his mouth and exhaling a large cloud of smoke.

"You got a better plan?" he asked. Cait sighed, clearly irritated.

"Not really. That bastard Tommy just threw me out on me ass."

"Could have been worse. Could have landed on that pretty face of yours," he said. Cait would have smiled if she hadn't been so pissed off at the moment.

"So what do I call you? I got the feelin that me callin' you jackass all the time will get old fast," she said.

"Nate," he said. Without another word, he headed toward the doors. Cait took one last look around the place she had called home or the past three years before she followed him. And with that, they walked out of the Combat Zone and into the pouring rain.

 _ **Present.**_

Nate looked over the dead raider as Cait broke the barrels of her shotgun and slid new shells into place. He was impressed, she definitely knew how to handle herself.

"Let's get to some cover," she said over the noise of the rain. Nate nodded in agreement and pointed at a nearby building with a partially collapsed wall. A lantern and a small campfire were set up inside, and both still had a warm glow to them. No doubt, this had been the raider's camp before Cait had unloaded both barrels of her shotgun into him.

They huddled around the campfire, which had a large metal pot suspended over the flames. Contained within the pot was a dark brown liquid that was bubbling. Nate instantly went to the pot, while Cait sat her pack down in the corner. The dog, happy to be out of the rain, shook himself dry, flinging water droplets everywhere.

"Ah, watch it ya damn molerat!" Cait snapped.

"Easy you two," Nate said as he picked up a large metal spoon and began to stir the contents of the pot.

"Keep your damn mutt the hell away from me, otherwise I'll turn 'em into jerky," she said, grabbing her bat. Neither one of her companions looked unfazed by the threat. Rather then look away from his work, Nate pulled a teddy bear from his satual and tossed it into the far corner, away from Cait.

Rather then run after it, the dog stood on point, his ears pointed upward as he stared at the stuffed animal. For a moment nothing happened, and then Nate let out a whistle. In the blink of an eye, the dog was across the room, tearing the teddy bear apart with a vicious ferocity. Cait watched, partly stunned at the act. She'd been under the assumption that the mutt had very little training and was kind of an airhead. Now she saw that he was a trained killer, plain and simple. Setting her bat back down, she made her way over to the pot. She'd gone hungry over the past day or two for the fights, and the smell was driving her nuts.

"What do ya have there?" she asked. Nate dipped a bit of the stew out and tasted it.

"Radstag stew, but it's missing something," he said as he began to dig back into his bag again. After a moment of digging, he came up with a white bottle of vodka. Cait felt her eyes grow to the size of saucers as he dumped the entire bottle into the mix. He quickly stirred the stew up before taking another taste.

"Ah, there it is," he said before grabbing a couple of tin cans and filling them with the stew. Again, Cait was surprised when he passed her one of the cans. In the Combat Zone she'd always had to fend for herself. Find her own food, get it, cook it, no one ever shared.

"Why ya givin' this to me?" she asked. Nate cocked an eyebrow at her in confusion.

"You look hungry. I saw you eying the pot," he replied.

"I don't need your niceties," she said.

"What you don't need is to be keeling over from hunger," he replied. Cait folded her arms and looked at the can for a moment before she took it and began to eat as fast as she could without burning herself. She had to admit one thing, this guy was a decent cook. Nate watched her eat for a moment before he sat down on a cinder block and took off his hat.

"So whats the plan?" Cait asked through a mouthful of food.

"Head south, get out of the city," he replied. Nate absolutely hated being in the city. He wanted out as fast as possible. Unfortunately, that meant heading south, into unknown territory. From what Nate could gather from traders and other travelers, the landscape south of Boston could be divided into two halves; radioactive swamp, and the radioactive hell scape known as the Glowing Sea.

"There's not much to the south of here, from what I've heard," Cait said, putting words to his thoughts. Nate hummed in response, but otherwise remained silent as he ate his food. The former cage fighter watched him curiously as she finished her portion. He was...unusual to say the least. She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing yet, just that he was unlike anyone else she'd ever encountered.

As she filled her can again, Cait noticed the way he sat. He wasn't really paying attention to his food. Or to her, or even the dog, which was still shredding the remnants of the stuffed animal that had been tossed to him. Instead, he was staring off into the storm that raged outside. In the few hours that had passed since they'd left the Combat Zone, she had gotten the feeling that the new holder of her contract really had no idea where he was going.

But now that she studied him more closely, watched his movements as if they were opponents in the cage, she realized something. It wasn't that he was lost, he just didn't have a particular destination in mind. People like that in this world were the dangerous kind. They were unpredictable, and usually had little regard for themselves or those around them. Combine that with the fact that she didn't even know his full name and she had seen what he'd done back in the Combat Zone, and Cait suddenly found herself very wary of him.

Finishing her food, Cait sat her can down and huddled close to the fire for warmth. In the opposite corner, the dog had finished tearing the bear apart and was now lying sprawled out next to his master. Nate continued to watch the storm and smoke, his food seemingly forgotten.

"I'm gonna turn in," she announced. He waved his hand in her direction, but otherwise remained silent. Cait grabbed a blanket before settling down, using her pack as a pillow. Her shotgun was cuddled close, like a child's stuffed animal, and soon she had drifted off to sleep.

She jerked awake sometime later. She was unsure of how long had past, but it was still night out. The rain had stopped, and only the occasional lightning bolt flashed through the clouds overhead. Nate was still awake, sitting near the fire as he read over a piece of paper. It took Cait's dazed mind a moment to realize that it was her contract. It seemed that he was looking over what exactly the piece of paper stated about their relationship.

As she watched him, Cait came to a revelation that startled her somewhat. He was younger then her. By how much, she wasn't sure. But he was young. The burn scars on his face made it difficult to guess an exact age. So lost was she in her studying of him that it took her longer then usual to process the fact that he was moving.

In fact, he had just thrown her contract into the fire.

"What the shite?!" she roared, springing to her feet and leveling her shotgun at him. Nate was on his feet just as fast, one of his pistols leveled at her forehead.

"You might wanna calm down," he said, his voice level.

"What the hell did ya do that for?"

"Do what?"

"Me contract, ya burned it!"

"Fire needed a little tinder," he said, easing the hammer forward on his pistol and returning it to its holster.

"But, you, you just..."

"Look, if you're gonna tag along with me, it's gonna be under your terms, alright? Not mine, not some piece of paper, and not some wrinkly no nosed motherfucker," Nate said before he sat back down and began to stir the embers with a stick. Cait was so dumbstruck that she lowered her shotgun and almost dropped it.

"I...thank you," she said. Nate grunted in response, but otherwise remained silent. She plopped down next to the fire, across from him.

"So after we get out of the city, then what?" she asked.

"We swing west, head to Diamond City."

"Why we headed there?" Cait asked, her mind instantly slipping towards all the possible drugs and alcohol she could get her hands on.

"I got some business to take care of," he said.

"Like what?" she asked.

"You'll see soon enough," he said, and left it at that.

"You're a tight lipped son of a bitch, ya know that?"

"I've heard that a time or two," Nate said before he leaned back, returned his hat to his head, and slipped it down over his eyes. Cait watched him for a moment before shaking her head. She returned to her sleeping spot and settled down again, hoping to get some decent sleep before dawn came.

 **And done. Cait is in it now, and they're on their way back to Diamond City. This story will follow the game somewhat up until the events of the Glowing Sea, and then it'll veer off on it's own. Now, for those of you who were asking about the romantic pairing, I've decided to leave that up to you: the reader. Do you want Nate to pair up with the pushy, yet helpful Piper? Or do you want him to hook up with brash and tough Cait? Or, perhaps it could go a less traditional route and have all three of them hooking up? Who knows? The choice is yours!**

 **So drop a review, leave a PM, send a smoke signal. Cast your vote, or just spout off about what you liked or didn't like, and I'll see you all next time.**


	3. Dangerous Minds

**Hey guys, I'm back with a new chapter. This chapter is kind of a short one, but I hope you guys enjoy it none the less. With that, let's get started...**

"This place smells like piss," Cait muttered under her breath as the trio entered Goodneighbor. Her companion grunted, but otherwise remained silent. The brawler cast a glance at him, but stayed silent as well. Even the dog neglected to make a sound, as if he preferred to keep the unspoken silence. The small trio had just traveled here from Diamond City. They had returned from Fort Hagen, after tracking a man named Kellogg there.

It was there, in the bowels of the pre war military instillation, that Cait bore witness to the kind of man her companion was. Nate had shot his way through the virtual army of synths standing guard, not slowing down even once. She could still see the confrontation between the two as if it had just happened.

Nate had strode into the Fort's command center, the ever present cigarette hanging from his mouth while he held both of his 10mm pistols at his side, their barrels smoking and actions locked back, signifying that they were empty. Kellogg had come out and informed him that his son was in the Institute. Then, Nate had done something that surprised everyone who was present in that room.

He produced a snub-nosed .44 and shot Kellogg at point blank range right between the eyes. Cait had to admit, her companion was one cold hearted son of a bitch, and any plans she may have had for double crossing him or just turning on him for her own gain flew right out the window. That, and part of her actually felt sorry for him.

On the way back to Diamond City, Nate had reluctantly given her the basic details of what had happened to him over the past few months. His wife had been killed, and his infant son kidnapped. Cait admired the strength the old world rifleman displayed. He wasn't looking for a shoulder to cry on, or even a whiskey bottle to climb into, he was channeling his pain and rage into completing his goals.

That being said, he was still the most tight lipped man she'd ever laid eyes on, and most of the time just trying to have a basic conversation with him was like pulling teeth with a pair of pliers. After getting back to Diamond City, and conversing with Nick Valentine and Piper about their finds, they'd set off to Goodneighbor to talk to a Doctor Amari.

Truth be told, Cait didn't understand half of what was going on. She'd been traveling with Nate for a few weeks now, and even though he'd opened up a little about his past, the man was still a mystery to her as ever. Aside from the incident in Fort Hagen, he'd been nice to her, kept her supplied with a steady stream of food and caps too. Couple that with the fact that Nate always seemed to stumble head first into danger, and she figured that was reason enough to stick around.

Nate led the way onto the main street, heading for a building with a set of double red doors. A sign reading 'Memory Den' sat just above the doors. The inside was mostly made of brick and dimly lit. A few pods sat scattered about what appeared to have once been a theater or something. Nate lit a cigarette as they approached Nick and a woman in a red feather dress who was lounging at the far end of the Den.

"Well well, Mr. Valentine, I thought you'd forgotten about little 'ole me," the woman said.

"May have walked out on the Den, Irma, but I'd never walk out on you," the old synth replied as the trio approached. The dog let out a whine and rubbed up against the detective's leg affectionately. Nick smiled and patted the dog on the head. Irma smirked at the sight.

"Hm. Amari's down stairs, you big flirt," she said. Both the detective and the rifleman tipped their hats to the woman before Nick led the way downstairs. They entered a room with two of the pods from upstairs sitting in the center. Various bits of machinery and equipment lined the walls, while a single woman in a lab coat stood over a console at the far end of the room.

"Doctor Amari?" Nick asked. The woman raised her head and turned to look at them.

"Yes? I take it this isn't a social call," she said. Nick looked to Nate as if he was waiting to explain, but he simply took a drag on his cigarette.

"All yours, Nick," he said as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. The Doctor made a face, but otherwise remained silent.

"We need a memory dig, Amari, but it's not gonna be easy. The guy, Kellogg, is already cold on the floor," Nick said. A look of horror came over Amari's face.

"Are you two mad?! Putting aside the fact that you're asking me to defile a corpse, you do realize that the memory simulators require intact LIVING brains to function?" she asked.

"Technically, the corpse was defiled already," Nate said, earning a snicker from Cait.

"This dead brain had inside knowledge of the Institute, Amari," Nick said, ignoring the other two, "the biggest scientific secret of the Commonwealth. You need this, and so do we." Amari sighed.

"Fine, I'll take a look, but no guarantees. Do you, have it with you?" she asked.

"Could you say that like Doctor Frankenstein? 'Igor fetch me the brain!'"

"No, I will not. Now do you have it?" Amari asked, annoyance becoming clear in her voice. Nate reached into his pack and handed her what Cait had always dismissed as a hunk of junk covered in brain matter. It was some kind of implant that he'd recovered from Kellogg. Personally she'd found that to be a waste of time, and disgusting on top it. But he'd taken it anyway.

"What's this? This isn't a brain, wait, that the...and those things attached to it...a neural interface?" Amari said as she looked the bit over.

"Those circuits look awfully familiar," Valentine muttered.

"I'm not surprised. From what I've seen, all Institute technology has a similar architecture."

"So it's still good?" Nate asked.

"Possibly. There's no sign of decay, so the tech is probably preserving the tissue. But there's no way to access the memories inside without a compatible port," Amari replied.

"You're talking about me, right?" Nick asked, "I'm an old synth. If the Institute built me out of similar parts, we might have an in."

"There could be long term side effects, I don't even know where to begin listing the risks."

"Don't bother. Plug me in, doc," Nick said.

"You think this will work?" Nate asked.

"No idea, but we got a missing kid on the line. That's worth the risk," the detective replied. As Nick took a seat and Amari began tinker with his head, Nate turned to Cait.

"Why don't you head over to the Third Rail or something, get a drink, I know you're board just standing here," he said. Cait looked past him to the synth before looking back at him.

"Alright. But if you need help just yell and I'll come runnin," she said. With that, the Irish woman left the Memory Den. But rather then head into the bar, she sat down on a bench outside. Part of her wanted to shoot up with Pysco and curl up into a ball. But, considering that they might be leaving soon, and the fact that she was sitting the middle of Goodneighbor, that wasn't the best idea.

The dog had followed her out of the Memory Den, and was currently sitting next to her. His head was cocked to the side as his big brown eyes studied her curiously.

"What are ya lookin' at, flee bag?" she asked, a little harsher then intended. Cait had actually gotten kind of use to the mutt over the past few weeks. He wasn't the pet dog she'd first made him out to be, but rather a loyal faithful companion that obeyed his masters commands. And while she didn't care much for dogs, this one was the closest she'd ever come to liking one. So why was she being a little hostile to him now, despite the fact he hadn't done anything wrong?

Simple.

She was itching for a fix, literally. Her hands were starting to get jittery and her skin seemed to itch everywhere. When she got like this, Cait's already short fuse was practically non existent. Last time she'd gotten like this, Nate had almost knocked out two teeth in self defense when she'd tried to take his head off with her bat. The only thing she could hope for was that they'd set up in a motel for the night and she could shoot up there.

Needless to say, she was surprised when Nate came storming past her. Cait jumped to her feet and hurried after him, eager to see what was going on. The anger was rolling off of him, so much so that she could feel it when she got close.

"What happened?" she asked.

"We found a way to get into the Institute."

"And?"

"And the man we're looking for is in the Glowing Sea." Cait blinked in surprise. She'd seen Nate hunt people down for less, why would this make a difference?

"So?" Nate stopped and spun around to face her.

"So it's the Glowing Sea, Cait. A literal hellscape, complete with radiation and all kinds of nightmarish creatures. I got no way of penetrating that. The fucker might as well as be on the moon," he said in frustration.

"So...where we goin'?" Cait asked after several moments of silence. Nate sighed before sticking a cigarette in his mouth.

"I need a place to think. We're going to Sanctuary."

 _Sanctuary_

"Not a bad set up so far, still waitin to see if it's a shite hole," Cait commented as they stepped off the old foot bridge. Nate didn't say a word in response. In fact, he'd barely made a noise since they'd left Goodneighbor. Now this would have bothered Cait, if it wasn't for the fact that her companion very rarely spoke at length.

So, rather then worry about him, she decided to focus on her surroundings.

The settlement of Sanctuary only contained about half of the pre war neighborhood it was built in. A barricade wall that was a mix of buses, trailers, and junk lined the ring of the hill in the eastern side of the neighborhood, while the houses in the western half had been totally picked clean and left as little more then rusting old shells waiting to crumble.

A marquee sign, advertising the promise of booze and protection in the settlement, was lit up next to the point where the road turned toward the settlement's main gate. Said gate was in fact a rusty old blue boxcar that had been thrown down in the road, spanning the length between two houses. A wooden railing lined the top of the car, with a guard post centered directly over the sliding door in the car's side.

The door, or gate in this case, was closed up tight. A few guards up on the wall were glaring down at a single figure standing in front of the gate. Even a turret that was situated on a house roof was trained on the person, ready to fire if need be. As they drew closer, Cait realized that she knew who this person was.

"What the fock is she doin 'ere?" she asked. The shoulder length dark hair, the press cap, the faded red trench coat, Nate knew Piper when he saw her. Although he hadn't spoken up yet, he had the exact same question as Cait. What was she doing here?

The two had encountered her when they'd gotten back to Diamond City after Fort Hagen. Piper was following Nate's story from afar, gathering up as many details as she could when she could. The rifleman's tight lipped tendencies certainly hadn't made that any easier. They thought they'd managed to give her the slip when they'd headed to Goodneighbor. Now, it seemed, they'd been found again.

"Blue, can you tell them to open up, please?" Piper said when she turned and noticed them standing there. Nate dropped his cigarette from his mouth and put it out with the toe of his boot.

"What are you doing here, Piper?" he asked.

"After you two gave me the slip in Diamond City, I headed to a place where I knew you'd turn up again. I'd been meaning to come up here and do a story on the new settlement of Sanctuary anyway so here I am," she explained.

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?" Piper flashed an apologetic smile.

"No, I really don't," she said. The Rifleman sighed as he placed his hands on his hips.

"Open the gate," he finally said up to the guards. The men all looked at each other before back at him.

"But, sir..."

"Is that you, Bob?" Nate asked, focusing on the man who'd spoken up.

"Yeah, it's me. Sir if I may, Preston said that..."

"I don't care what Preston says, get this damn gate open before I shoot you off that wall," Nate said, his tone carrying authority rather then it's usual hushed softness. The men all looked at each other again before the one called Bob vanished from sight. After a few minutes, the sliding boxcar door slid open, revealing Bob and another person armed with a pipe rifle.

The small group stepped through the door and into the settlement itself. What existed on the inside of the wall was a far cry from what was on the outside. Several junk buildings and shacks had either been built onto already existing houses, or they had been set up in the yards between the houses.

What had once been old car ports along the sides on the houses had been converted into shops. A clothing store had been set up in the car port of the blue house to their left, while what was more of a workshop and armory was in the yellow house to their right. A set of wooden stairs led up to a box like shack that had been constructed on top of the yellow house car port.

Nate led the way past all this, past a small shack that, judging by the sign handing above the door was the settlement's general store, to a large shack that stood alone on an old, bare concrete foundation. The building was two story, and mostly made of tin siding and wooden planks that had been thrown together. A red dog house sat next to the corner of the shack, which the dog happily trotted over to and laid down in.

"Cute little guy, what's his name?" Piper asked. Nate cast a glance down at the dog as he walked up to the faded red door of the shack.

"Dog," he said after a moment of silence before throwing the door open. The first floor of the shack was a wide open room. A set of stairs sat directly in front of the door, leading up to the second floor. A dining table sat in the center with a few chairs around it. A dresser sat against the wall directly to their left, while a single bed sat in the corner beyond that.

An olive drab footlocker sat at the foot of the bed, while an oil lamp sat on the nightstand between the bed and the dresser. A single red armchair sat in the middle of the room at the foot of the bed, with a radio setting on the end table beside it. To the back of the shack, on the other side of the stairs sat a single desk with a chair facing the wall, a few candles sat on top of the desk to help illuminate the space so whoever sat there could work. A stove and cooler sat in the corner next to the desk, on the opposite side of the stairs from the table.

"This is my place," Nate said as he leaned his rifle against the dresser, "You can stay the night either here or at the bar. Either way, in the morning you're going back to Diamond City."

"Hey, I came here for a story. I ain't going anywhere till I get it," Piper said. But her words fell of deaf ears as Nate went up the stairs and vanished from view. The reporter clenched her teeth and stomped her foot in frustration.

"Gah, he has got to be the most frustrating man I have ever met," she said.

"Kinda like pullin' teeth, ain't it?" Cait asked as she dropped her pack on the table before flopping down in the armchair.

"How have you stayed with him without snapping?" Piper asked. Cait shrugged.

"The caps are good, 'n so's the view if you don't mind..." she trailed off while waving her hand in front of her face, indicating the scars on Nate's face. Piper sighed and shook her head.

"I'm gonna go for a walk, get a feel of the place and cool off a little," she said. With that, she turned and walked out the door, closing it behind her. Cait sat for a moment before she stood and walked up the stairs after Nate.

The upstairs was much smaller then the downstairs, the only thing that was up here was an old bobblehead stand, a large red chair, and a small side table next to the chair. A bottle of bourbon sat on the table, along with a few glasses. Nate was sitting in the chair with a lit cigarette in one hand and a glass in the other. His hat hung off the side of the chair, while his legs were crossed out before him.

"Startin' without me?" Cait asked. He motioned toward the bottle with his glass, silently giving her the go ahead. Cait picked up the bottle and a glass before pouring herself a drink and leaning against the wall.

"Think you might be a little too harsh on the reporter," she said before taking a swig.

"Maybe," he replied, "I don't like people prying into my business, you know that."

"Yeah, I know. So, if we're not goin' after this prick in the Glowing Sea, what are we gonna do?" she asked. Nate sighed before he stared off into space for a while.

"You can still go your own way. I'm not asking you to follow me anywhere," he said.

"Where you wanting to go?" she asked. Nate reached into his pack before pulling out a folded piece of paper.

"I found this on a dead courier outside Bunker Hill a while back." Cait took the paper and looked it over before looking back at him with a bewildered look on her face.

"You're outa your fockin' mind," she said. Nate simply smirked.

"Maybe. But hey, if Piper wants a story, maybe this will get her off our backs," he said. Cait looked back down at the flier in her hand.

 _'Come and see the Treasures of Jamaica Plain!'_

"If this doesn't get her a damn story, I don't know what will."

 **And cut. A short one I know, but next chapter will be longer as we delve into the treasure of Jamaica Plain. Now a lot of you have put forward your support of Nate hooking up with Cait, or Nate, Cait, and Piper hooking up. I'm not going to announce which pairing will happen for a few chapters so I ask that all of you keep voicing your support for the pairing you want.**

 **But other then that, you all know the drill. Drop a review, leave a PM, send a smoke signal. Let me know what you liked or didn't like, and I'll see you all in the next one.**


	4. The Treasures of Jamaica Plain

**Hey guys, I'm back with a new chapter. A lot of you have made your opinion known on who you want to see Nate paired up with. Currently the vote is Cait. But, enough of that, on with the chapter:**

 _Jamaica Plain_

"I remember some bloke who said he was goin' out to find the treasure of Jamaica Plain...never saw his sorry arse again," Cait said. The group, consisting of Nate and the dog in the lead, followed closely by Piper and Cait were standing on the eastern edge of the small village in question. It was nighttime out, under a crystal clear sky with a bright full moon hanging overhead. They had spent all day traveling here from Sanctuary, with the majority of it spent dodging several areas that had raiders or Super Mutants.

A pit stop in Diamond City for ammunition and supplies had yielded some combat armor for Cait, and some odd looks from various people when Piper had asked for any information regarding the supposed treasure. Apparently the treasure was a legend of sorts that had been circling the Commonwealth for as long as anyone could remember. Anyone who'd gone after it had never come back.

"So where do you think this treasure of yours is?" Piper asked. Nate remained silent as he studied the town before them and taking a long drag on his cigarette. The orange glow from the tip illuminated his scarred face with an eerie orange light. After a moment, he dropped it onto the ancient pavement beneath his feet and put it out with the tip of his boot.

"We'll set up in there for the night," he said, motioning toward the church to their left.

"Why? Let's just get in, get what we can, and get movin'," Cait said. Nate, however, unslung his rifle, his eyes never leaving the ruins before him.

"Something doesn't feel right here," he replied. The dog wined and rubbed his snout with his paw as if to agree with his master. The former cage fighter began to speak up, but quickly closed her mouth. She'd come to realize in her time traveling with Nate that when the rifleman suspected trouble, they usually got trouble.

Nate raised the rifle to his shoulder and peered down the scope. He started from one end of the town to the other, moving slowly and studying the ruins. Occasionally he'd pause, but only for a brief moment before he'd continue on his sweep. When he reached the other end of town, he let out a grunt and lowered the rifle again.

"Well?" Piper asked.

"Ferals," he replied, as if he was giving the time of day.

"Shamblers? How many?" Cait asked.

"How many is in a fuck ton?"

"So what's the plan?" Piper asked.

"Same as before, set up shop in the church."

"If ya think I'm blastin thru an army of Ferals with nothin but a shotgun, a reporter, and a limie flea bag, ya got another thing comin," Cait said.

"We're not going thru them directly, sweetheart," Nate replied, raising the rifle in his hands a little as if to make a point. For Cait, his plan finally clicked into place. The rifleman intended to thin out or even wipe out the horde of feral ghouls occupying the town with his rifle.

With that, Nate took off at a steady pace toward the church with the others hurrying to catch up. They found the front door into the church, a red thing made of solid oak, to be chained shut. However a small makeshift walkway made its way from the house next door onto the church roof, and within moments the group was standing on the roof of the church, looking down through the holes into the building itself.

"So, how we getting in without breaking our necks?" Piper asked. Nate and Cait looked at each other before the latter rolled her eyes and gave the reporter a shove. Piper let out a screech as she vanished into the building, followed closely by the crash of something wood breaking.

"You alright?" Nate asked. A moan of pain was the only response.

"So who's next?" Cait asked. The rifleman shrugged.

"I don't know bout you, but I'm going in through the actual way in," he said, thrusting his thumb over his shoulder toward the bell tower behind him. Cait looked at it before looking back at him. Her expression was one that he found priceless as she tried to stifle a laugh. He walked his way over to the tower, scouped up the dog and put him inside before jumping and pulling himself up. After a second, he knelt down and offered a hand out to Cait, pulling the Irish woman up into the tower with him.

"Nice view," the former cage fighter commented as the pair stood upright and looked out over the town ruins, bathed in moonlight. Nate simply hummed in response before he led the way down the stairs into the church. At the bottom of the spiral staircase, they found themselves on a balcony overlooking the church's main room. Old pews lined the floor, and massive windows lined both walls.

"Thanks for the push, assholes," Piper said as she got to her feet. The reporter was standing atop the shattered remains of the pew that had broken her fall.

"Ah, quit ya fussin, you ain't had this one shove ya into a sewer yet," Cait said, shooting a glare at Nate in the process. The rifleman gave her a small, playful smirk in response. Piper dusted off her red trench coat before looking around the room.

"Aw, gross! There's a dead guy down here," she said.

"Dibs on the caps!" Cait exclaimed before she bounded over the railing, eager to loot the corpse for anything valuable. The dog looked up at his master as if to question the redhead's actions. He simply shrugged in response.

"This bloke's only got one of them fliers, a few caps, and some key card on him," Cait said.

"Hang on to that, we might need it."

"Now what?" Piper asked.

"We wait for dawn."

"Dawn? But what about those Ferals?"

"The windows are too high and that door is solid oak and chained shut. They can't get in here," Nate said before he turned and disappeared back into the stairwell to the belfry. A few hours went by, with Piper jotting things down in her notebook while the dog lay next to her, his head on his paws. Cait, on the other hand, as about to go insane with boredom.

The Irish woman had already cleaned her shotgun, practiced swinging her bat at rocks, empty beer bottles and other things just lying around. She'd even spent a good half hour trying to find some place to either take a nap or shoot up with Psycho. None of the remnants of the pews were comfortable enough to sleep on, and any place on the second floor of this old church meant she ran the risk or stumbling around while high and falling off or down something. Best case, she got a few bruises and a hurt pride, worst case she broke her neck.

A rifle shot from the balcony caused Cait to jump slightly. Nate had been up in the belfry the entire time, taking pot shots at the Ferals outside. She found it irritating because just when you'd get use to the silence, just when you started to wonder if he'd decided to give it up, another rifle shot would echo through the night.

Standing up from her spot by the old podium, Cait walked up the stairs. She'd decided that she was either gonna talk to her companion, or lose her temper and just flat out push him from the bell tower. In truth, she was curious about the nature of their relationship. Sure, he'd torched her contract, and yes, he had made it abundantly clear that if she traveled with him, she did so of her own free will. However she couldn't help but feel like he was expecting something from her.

When she reached the top of the tower, she found Nate sitting with his back against one of the support beams, his right leg curled up into him while his left was stuck out in front of him. He had his rifle to his shoulder, peering down the scope as he lined up another target. The rifleman looked like he was reclining lazily in a hammock, rather then picking his next target.

"Hey, you got a minute?" she asked, climbing out of the hatchway in the floor and sitting on her knees. The only light source aside from the full moon was an old oil lamp, and it cast an eerie amber glow on everything in the tower.

"What do you need, Cait?" he asked, his posture not changing. Cait had been around him long enough to know that Nate wasn't much in the way of chit chat. He preffered to speak less and listen more. Which meant that she was gonna have to push ahead and do most of the talking.

"After Tommy stuck me with you, I was expectin' to hate your guts," she started, "not only cause you agreed to pick up me contract, but because I was waiting for you to order me around like hired help." He snorted, but still his posture didn't change. Cait continued to forge ahead, she needed to get to the bottom of this.

"Now so far, you've been treating me like a friend. Hell, you've been damn near nice to me. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but your kindness is startin' to make me wonder. If there's anything I learned in the Combat Zone, it's that nobody does things for other people without expectin' somethin' in return," she said.

"Of course, time to pay up," he said, flashing her a toothy grin as he briefly looked away from his scope. His tone and grin made it clear he was joking. But Cait wasn't amused.

"Cute," she deadpanned, "I spent three years living at the Combat Zone. It smelled like puke and piss, but I called it home. I was makin' a few caps, had me own bed, and three hot meals a day. Then the Raiders took over, and they aren't exactly what you'd call 'the gentle type'. After that, you had to keep looking over your shoulder, otherwise you'd get sucker punched and robbed, or worse. Didn't take me long to learn that I had to put me hard earned caps to good use. Buyin' friends was essential to making life easier." Nate didn't say anything, but he did look away from his scope to look at her. His eyebrows were raised, as if to say that he was listening and waiting for her to go on.

"I guess I'm waiting for you to hand me a bill, you know what I mean?" she finished. The Rifleman sat in silence for the longest time. Then, he sighed and lowered his rifle to his lap.

"You don't owe me anything. That's the whole reason I torched your contract in the first place," he said.

"I still feel like I owe you something. Look, I ain't a rich girl, but I'll find someway to pay you back," she promised. Nate sighed again.

"You see that group of Ferals?" he asked, pointing at a group of feral ghouls that was clustered in the center of an intersection just down the street.

"Yeah."

"I bet you ten caps I can kill em all with one shot," he said. Cait looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"You don't like money, do ya?"

"Ten caps, and we never bring up owing each other anything again," he said. She pondered it a for a moment, then shrugged. What did she have to lose?

"Alright, you're on," she said, confident she had this in the bag. Nate leveled his rifle again, and after a heartbeat fired. Cait watched with bated breath, but even in the gloom she could see that not a single Feral had dropped from the shot.

"Ha! Not a single hit, pay up ya wise ass..." she trailed off as Nate raised a single finger, telling her to wait a moment. Then, the rusted out truck sitting in the middle of the intersection exploded in an orange fireball. Body parts and other bits flew everywhere as the ghouls were utterly decimated by the blast.

Cait's mouth hung open at the display. All of the Ferals had been blown apart, and the rest of them had been picked off by his shooting throughout the night. Nate gave her a small, yet confident smile as he held out his hand.

"One shot, all of 'em dead. Pay up," he said. She would have shoved him out of the bell tower if she wasn't so impressed by his cleverness. Reluctantly, she handed the caps over.

"Ah, don't look so glum, we got a treasure to claim," Nate said as he pocketed the money and stood. Any anger she'd had vanished at the notion. There was nothing standing between them and that treasure now. The sky was burnt red color, almost like her hair as the sun started to peak in the east.

"Let's go claim us some loot," she said.

* * *

The mid morning sun was shining down on their backs as the group made its way to the front doors of city hall. Nate had slung his rifle across his back and was walking forward with his pair of 10mm pistols drawn. The dog scampered ahead to the set of sun baked white double doors, growling and scratching at the wood at whatever lay on the other side.

Without so much as a second thought, the old world soldier walked up and planted his boot squarely in the center of the doors, causing them to fly open. A deep throat ed growl filled the air as a few Ferals on the other side raced toward him. But Nate was ready for this, easily cutting them down with a few shots from his pistols.

"Damn, did someone drive bulldozer through here?" Cait asked. The inside of City Hall looked like a bomb had gone off inside of it. Several walls were in shambles, and even a section of the second floor and roof were missing completely.

"Spread out, look for a working terminal or something that will indicate where the treasure is," Nate said. The trio split up, searching various points. It didn't take long for Cait to locate a terminal that was still working, surprising given the fact that the office it sat in had been competently obliterated. She pressed a few keys on the keyboard, but a message appeared on the screen requesting a password.

"Oi, found a workin' terminal!" she called. Nate appeared next to her, looking over the screen with a hint of giddiness. This quickly faded as the message appeared on the screen again.

"This terminal is locked," he said.

"So? Hack the damn thing," she said. Nate gave her a deadpanned expression before raising one of his pistols and firing a shot through the screen of the terminal. The computer flickered and then died, and Cait gave her companion a baffled look.

"I. Don't. Hack," he said. The Irish woman rolled her eyes before taking notice of a safe in one of the intact walls. Terminals weren't her thing. Good old fashioned locks on the other hand were right up her alley.

"Let me see if I can get that open," she said before descending upon the lock with a bobby pin. Cait had spent years honing her skills at breaking into things, mainly because survival dictated it. She'd learned to pick locks in order to get into places or things that held stuff she needed. Water, food, chems, sometimes even caps. So it was no surprise when the lock easily gave way, standing no chance against her skill.

"There," she said as she turned the handle and popped the safe open, "feel free to thank me any time now."

"Nice work, as usual," Nate praised as he swung the safe all the way open. This wasn't the first time since they'd started traveling together that Cait's skill had come in handy. He had a basic understanding of lock picking, but her skill far outmatched his own. Digging through the safe's contents was disappointing, all that was inside were faded and crumbling Pre War documents. Locating on piece of paper, Nate let his head fall back with a groan.

"What?" He held up the paper for her to read.

"The password for the terminal I just put a bullet in," he said. Cait rolled her eyes.

"And you say I'm impatient."

"Hey, guys," Piper said, appearing on the edge of the floor above them, "there's another body up here, and it's fresh." The pair looked at each other before making their way around to the stairs and up to the intact section of the second floor where Piper and the dog waited.

Slumped in a corner was the body of a woman with gray hair. She was wearing army fatigues with combat armor and had an empty pipe rifle draped across her lap. Spent ammo casings lay all around her. Nate lit a cigarette before began inspecting the body, turning the head one way and then the other.

"What are you thinkin' Blue?" Piper asked.

"I'm guessing a Gunner op went sideways big time," he said.

"And how do you know that?"

"Gunners sometimes tattoo their blood type on their forehead," Nate said, tapping the tattoo that read O- above the body's left eyebrow, "either this chick was a former Gunner or she was currently employed."

"So then where's the bloody treasure?" Cait asked.

"Only one place left to look," Nate said. With that, the rifleman led the way to the basement. The lock on the door was easy enough for Nate to handle on his own. In the basement, it was like the place hadn't been opened since the bombs fell. Dust was everywhere, and sections of the ceiling had collapsed.

They picked their way through, coming across what appeared to be an old assembly hall. Nate walked up to the podium, which had just barely managed to avoid being crushed by a section of concrete from the ceiling. He experimentally tapped the microphone a few times, and then shrugged when nothing happened. Opening a door on the right side of the room, Piper let out a whistle.

"If there's something of value down here, I'd say it's beyond that." The hallway before them was full of laser tripwires as well as at least three turrets that were primed and ready to fire on the end of the hall.

 _"Welcome to the treasure of Jamaica Plain. The security system is active, please present your ID,"_ said an automated female voice. Nate looked at a white control panel and took notice of a key card reader.

"Hey, Cait, let me see that card you picked up," he said. The redhead handed the card over, curious to see what he was up to. Nate slid the card through the card holder. A few red lights blinked yellow and then green.

 _"Identification acknowledged. Welcome Mayor."_ Instantly all of the laser tripwires in the hallway deactivated, leaving them free to proceed. Nate grinned at their luck.

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere," he said before leading the way down the hallway. At the end, they rounded into a room with another terminal. This time there were two pods with Protectrons on either side of a set of metal doors with mag locks on them. The rifleman looked at the screen, and wasn't surprised in the slightest when a message popped up requesting a password.

Remembering the computer upstairs, he pulled out the pass code they had gotten from the safe and typed it in. To his pleasant surprise, the code worked, and he made short work in releasing the mag locks. The metal doors swung open, revealing a second set of doors along with a single red button that sat on a pedestal just begging to be pressed. Finally, the moment of truth had arrived.

"After you," he said, motioning for Cait to do the honors. The redhead was beaming as she slammed her fist down on the button. Wealth, fame, all of it was theirs now, and she was giddy at the thought.

That feeling instantly turned to rage when those doors swung open.

"Are you FOCKIN KIDDING ME?!" she screeched.

"And now the story of a lifetime; the fabled treasure of Jamaica...oh," Piper said. A time capsule. The mythological treasure of Jamaica Plain that had spread all over the Commonwealth ever since the bombs fell was nothing more then a time capsule. Nate lit a new cigarette before walking around the room, eying each display case carefully.

"I should have guessed. The values of everyday American life were considered 'treasures' by people in seats of power during the Pre War days," he said.

"That was a lot of security for a time capsule," Piper said.

"People in seats of power were also incredibly dumb back then too."

"YAAAH!" Cait screamed as she brought her baseball bat down on the terminal and table sitting in the middle of the room. The table was turned to splinters instantly while the terminal was launched into the air before crashing down on top of the remnants of the table. It wasn't long before it was twisted scrap metal as well as Cait held nothing back, slamming her bat down again and again.

"After all that, this is the fockin treasure?!" she asked before smashing her bat down on the terminal again. Piper and the dog took a few steps back from the raging Irish woman. They looked at each other before going back to watching the rampage unfolding before them. Nate continued on as if nothing was going on, stopping only when he reached a case in the corner.

"Hello, what's this?" he said before opening the case and picking up a baseball bat. It was older and studier looking then the one Cait was using.

"What you got there, Blue?" Piper asked. The dog perked up as well, even Cait stopped her beating long enough to see what was going on.

"A 2076 World Series bat," he replied, "in damn good condition at that."

"Is that suppose to mean somethin'?" Cait asked.

"To us? Not really. To a certain bat peddler in Diamond City? Two, maybe three hundred caps," he said.

"So this wasn't a total bust," Cait said.

"No, but if you want to keep demolishing this place, be my guest," he replied. Cait happily did just that, moving on from the center table to the display cases around the edge of the room. Piper, Nate, and the dog made their way back out to the street in front of the building. The rifleman had slung his rifle over his shoulder, and was resting his newly claimed prize over the sling.

"You know, that's an awful lot of salvage you're letting go to waste in there," Piper said. He shrugged as he dropped his cigarette and crushed it beneath the toe of his boot.

"I've found it best to let Cait vent her frustrations when the time arises. Besides, I'd rather she beat the crap out of some bits of junk then me," he said. As if on cue, Cait emerged from the front doors of the old building. Her chest was heaving, and her bat was draped over her shoulder.

"Feel better?"

"Some. Fuck it all, I just wanna get paid," she replied.

"So what's the plan now?" Piper asked.

"Now we go back to Diamond City, sell the bat, split the profits, and then we go our separate ways," Nate replied. Piper frowned at that.

"And why would I want to part ways with you now?" she asked.

"You said you'd stick around until you got a story. Well, I upheld my end of the bargain and got you a story." Piper sighed and visibly deflated. That had been the deal, after all.

"Alright. Fine," she said, "but the second I catch wind of you being involved in another story I'm coming along."

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

 _Somewhere in the Western Commonwealth._

The figure knelt next to the kicked out campfire and held a hand bound in fingerless gloves out over the black spot, feeling for heat. It was a man, wearing an old brown leather duster with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of gray canvas pants, and a pair of motorcycle boots on his feet. A wide brimmed hat rested on his head, blocking the sun from falling on his face. As he felt, his coat shifted slightly, revealing the .44 revolver that hung in the holster on his hip.

"Not too much further now," he said to himself before picking up a syringe lying next to the fire ring. It was shaped like a Pyscho syringe. The man leaned forward and smelled the needle before tapping his index finger against it. Bringing it back, he gave it a quick taste before his face twisted in disapproval.

"Pyschojet, that's him alright," he said before standing, continuing his pursuit of the man who'd taken everything from him. He would have his revenge, he was sure of it.

 **And cut. So, the characters are growing closer, and a new player steps onto the stage. Who is this new man? Who is he looking for?**

 **As I said at the beginning of the chapter, the vote was swinging in support of Cait. This does not mean that it's over and Cait won. If you want to see Nate hook up with someone else besides Cait, or if you want to voice your support of her, drop a review, leave a PM and continue to voice your choice. Or, state who you think the man in the leather jacket is. And with that, I'll see you all next time.**


	5. Wright Tape 1

**Hey guys, I'm back with a new chapter. This chapter is kind of a filler. It's the start of a project I've been wanting to do, but could never find the right about of motivation to bring to light. Hopefully you guys won't find it utterly boring.**

 _Diamond City Market._

"It's good quality radstag meat, Polly, what more do you want?" Nate asked. The blonde woman standing behind the counter gave him a look as she swung her cleaver again. Blood splattered all over the place, some of it landing on her worn denim jacket, not that she seemed to care. Nor did she seem to care about the cigarette ash that was falling into her cut.

"People bring in radstag all the time, not exactly blowing up my skirt here," the butcher replied.

"People bring in radroach all the time. Compared to that, this is a rib eye steak."

"I want the good stuff Nate. Two weeks you spent tramping around the Commonwealth and all you got to show for it is radstag?" she asked, pulling her cigarette out of her mouth and exhaling smoke as she spoke. Cait stood nearby, leaning with her back against one of the tin walls while her arms were folded across her chest. The Irish woman rolled her eyes as she watched the two go back and forth.

She'd watched Nate haggle and barter with a good portion of the merchants in the Diamond City Market for most of the morning. Most of it had been good. She'd gotten her cut of the profit from selling the bat they'd recovered in Jamaica Plain, and she'd gotten ammo for her shotgun. There were even a few syringes of Psycho that had found their way into her pack, and she couldn't wait to use those.

"Fine," the Rifleman said, reaching into his pack and producing a large section of meat wrapped up in an old newspaper. Polly unwrapped the meat before looking up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Is that?"

"Deathclaw. Fresh, no more then a day old," he said. By Cait's leg, the dog perked up and whined as he looked at his master.

"Hush, ya flea bag," she hissed down at him. Polly began to reach for the meat, but a wagging finger from Nate stopped the butcher in her tracks.

"For Deathclaw I want information," he said. The butcher huffed, but otherwise relented.

"Some scavengers passed through here a few days ago, said something about some old estate houses south of here that were relatively untouched. No one felt like tangling with the Yao Gaui hanging around," she said. Nate smiled as he slid the meats toward her.

"Thank you, kindly, Polly."

"Eat a dick, Adams," came the reply as the butcher forked over the caps required and ended their transaction. Nate turned toward Cait, pocketing the caps as he went.

"Well, she was all rays 'n sunshine," the former cage fighter commented.

"I don't think she likes me very much."

"Not many people do." Nate glared at her as he turned the nob on his pipboy, but otherwise remained silent. After a few minutes of tinkering with the device, he lit a cigarette before tilting his head, silently telling his companions to follow along. With that, they started toward the city gate.

"So where are we headed now?"

"There's an old estate south of here that's got some good salvage," Nate said.

 _Fairline Hill Estates._

The dog sniffed around the playground equipment at the center of the Estate as Nate and Cait walked around, studying the houses as they went. A round a bout circled the old playground at the center, while the houses sat on the outer edge. As they walked, Nate unslung his rifle and held it at the ready.

"What is it?" Cait asked as she readied her shotgun as well. The Rifleman's steel colored eyes scanned the houses around them.

"I don't know." His gaze settled on a house to their right. Unlike the others, this house's windows were boarded up, and a set of homemade tin can chimes hung from the front porch. A rusted semi truck was parked in the driveway with crates and bits of furniture stacked on top of it to allow for a makeshift ladder.

The dog noticed the house as well, and he began to growl at it, barring his teeth with his ears pulled back.

"Ah, hush up ya flee bag," Cait said, not seeing anything that could be deemed as a threat. She was quickly proven wrong as a glowing one emerged from the bushes in front of the house. It spotted the group and let out an inhuman screech before charging them directly. Cait went to bring up her shotgun and give the charging conduit of radiation both barrels to the chest, but her companion beat her to it.

The rifle echoed off the houses around them as the Glowing One's head exploded into tiny green glowing bits. It's now lifeless body staggered and then fell to the pavement. Nate calmly worked the bolt on his rifle, sliding a new round into the chamber before he went back to scan mode. When it became clear that no other ferals were preparing to attack them, he slung his rifle and started toward the house.

"Stay here for a sec," he said over his shoulder as he drew one of his pistols and climbed up the makeshift ladder. Cait and the dog exchanged a glace, but otherwise remained silent as they watched him disappear into a hole in the wall. A few gunshots followed, but then all was silent. Cait clutched her shotgun, ready to run forward and try to help her companion if necessary.

After another minute or so, Nate emerged from the front door and waved them forward, telling them it was safe.

"What was that all about?" Cait asked as she stepped up onto the porch.

"A pair of ferals in the upstairs bedroom," Nate replied as he slid a new magazine into his pistol.

"Anythin' good on 'em?"

"Not on them, no, but it looks like someone tried setting up a stash or something," Nate replied as he headed back up the stairs. Cait followed and looked around the room at the top of the stairs. Two hundred years of exposure to the weather and neglect had taken its toll, but it was still fairly intact. The bodies of the ferals lay sprawled out on the floor, their heads having been blasted apart by the Rifleman.

Across from them was a skeleton propped up against the wall, facing the door that had been behind the feral. Beside it were a few duffel bags and ammunition boxes. Judging by the chain that hung from the wall by the door and the way the skeleton, a man based upon the tattered clothing it was wearing, Cait figured he had died staring at the door with the ferals banging away on the other side.

Whatever, she could care less about the problems of others, especially ones who had been dead for almost two centuries. The dog sniffed the skeleton over before latching his powerful jaws onto a single rib and yanking it free. He went about chewing his new toy with a happy snarl, leaving the pile of bones to shift a little. A touch of orange caught Cait's eye, and she returned her attention to what was left of the body.

In the skeleton's hand was a holotape. This wasn't the first time the Irish woman had seen prewar devices like this. The things were built to last and could withstand almost anything, carrying whatever sort of message or data through almost anything nature could throw at them. Did she have any use for them? More often then not, no. But Nate usually found them interesting, and sometimes they could lead to a nice pile of caps.

"Oi, look at this," Cait said, prying the tape from the hand bones curled around it. As she got it free, she realized that a small section of duck tape had been put at the top of the holotape. In faded black maker were some words written on it, but Cait didn't care enough to try and decipher it. Nate made his way over and looked at the thing she had found. The Irish woman handed the tape off before turning her attention to the ammunition and duffel bags.

"Wright Tape No. 1," Nate said, reading the words on the tape, "huh, wonder if there's any relation to Piper." He tucked it away in his satual before helping Cait with the rest of the supplies.

"Not exactly the mother load I was hopin' for," Cait noted.

"We'll take what we need. Anything left can be sold back in Diamond City," Nate said before he stood and slung one of the duffel bags over his shoulder. Cait copied his motion, and soon the two were on their way, leaving the old estates behind. The sun was setting when they stopped near Boston's outskirts to make camp. A small campfire was crackling in between the two and a mole rat was skewered on a stake over it by the time the stars had fully come out.

Nate was sitting with his legs crossed while the dog rested beside him. Across from them, Cait turned the mole rat over so as to prevent it from burning. When she had first left the Combat Zone, all she'd ever cooked on was some of the old rundown stoves. Nate had taught her all sorts of things about being on the road, and she had come a long way from flat out burning to a crisp anything that was to be cooked over an open fire.

The Rifleman reached into his pack and pulled out the tape. He was starting to get a little board, and frankly he was curious about what could have been on the tape. Taping a button on his Pipboy, a tape drive opened and the holotape was slid inside before snapping it closed again. The tape began to play, echoing into the quiet night around him. At first, there was static, followed closely by the sound of someone arranging a microphone.

 _Okay, I finally got this old recorder working. I'm not sure why I got chosen to do this, there are several others who'd be much better at it. Hell, Sally's a better speaker, and Jake is a better storyteller. I'm sure those two could have teamed up and made this thing a hell of a lot better then I could. Ensure that future generations remember how it was my ass. Oh well, guess I'm not getting out of this._

 _My name is Luke Wright. It's my job, apparently, to tell you what happened. Surviving Armageddon_ _isn't exactly the easiest thing to do, but it is a situation that you can learn from. But, in order for you to get the full lesson, the full story, I gotta take you back to a time when things were different. Before the all radiation and chaos that comes with the breakdown in society._

 _Honestly, a small part of me kinda misses the time before the bombs, even if it was one shit show after another for me. I could drink water from the tap without having to worry about my hair falling out, or take a stroll without someone trying to kill me for the clothes on my back. Oh wait, there was a little of that, but that was toward the end, and more on that later, I'm getting ahead of myself._

 _I started my first day at Shaw High School in Milton, Massachusetts in August of 2077._

 _See, back then I went by my dad's last name of Anderson. He was an up and coming doctor who'd just gotten a job at Milton General Hospital, and my mother was an accountant who worked for a bank in Boston. Me? I was only seventeen at the time, just starting my senior year in high school._

 _When October came, it seemed the school was all freaking out over who would be going to some sort of Fall dance or something. Rusty Burton, one of the school's largest troublemakers in every sense of the word, was selling Mentats to a lot of the students, and trying to earn himself the vote for the King. He was also a major pain in my ass._

 _See, on my first day Rusty and his girlfriend had been having an argument in the hallway. By that, I mean the big loaf had pinned pretty brunette whom he had claimed as his own to my locker and was screaming at her. I did what came naturally, and both Rusty and I wound up being sent to detention, me with a sense of satisfaction and Rusty with a black eye and wounded pride._

 _Needless to say, Rusty did his best to ensure that my life was a living hell from then on. He was so sure of himself and his position in the social hierarchy that he never realized just how fragile his position was. And let me tell you, Karma came down on him like an anvil. A week before that dance was suppose to happen, the world came to an end._

 _I was sleeping in when the sirens sounded on the morning of Saturday, October 23_ _rd_ _, 2077. Mom and Dad weren't home, and I didn't have much time, grabbing a few changes of clothes, some cans of a food, a geiger counter Dad had bought one time on a whim, and then ran like hell for a nearby storm drain._

 _The blast was the loudest thing I've ever heard, and the ground shook so much afterward that I was convinced that my small makeshift shelter would cave in on top of me. But, after only a few hours, it stopped. From what I've been able to gather, there was only one bomb that hit the Boston area. But boy oh boy did it pack a punch._

 _I came out of my shelter very briefly a few hours after the blast, geiger counter in hand, ready to dive back to safety should the radiation levels be too high. Thankfully, the fallout hadn't returned to the ground yet, or I wasn't in the path of said fallout cloud. I could see the remnants of the mushroom cloud to the southwest though, out in the industrial and military areas._

 _Taking a gamble, I went back to my house to gather some more supplies, and collect my granddad's old hunting rifle. Along the way I encountered a few others from school. Sarah, the girl that Rusty had favored, was among them. I convinced them to come with me, as wandering around in the immediate aftermath of an atomic blast wasn't a good idea._

 _We found Rusty as we were headed back to the drain. The poor bastard had been facing the direction of the blast when it went off, and he'd been blinded by the flash. My God, the state of him was just gut wrenching. I may not have gotten along with the guy, but having your eyes burned out of your skull isn't a fate I'd wish on anyone._

 _Despite our limited supplies, we took him with us and treated him as well as we could. It's been almost a month now since the bombs fell and we've made our way here to the Fairline Estates just north of Milton. Everyone who originally lived here is gone, probably run off cause of fear of radiation or something._

 _Right now we're trying to decide what to do next. We can hear the sounds of gunfire coming from Boston. I guess the army and everyone else is fighting over what's left. A few of us, like Jacob and Rusty, want to go east from here. There's a military checkpoint that broadcasting a looped message, promising food and shelter to military personal. They figure it's our best chance at getting help and maybe finding a few family members._

 _Sarah wants to go west, out into the wilderness, away from the city. She figures that enough animals and farms out there survived the blast for us to survive off of. She's not alone in that sentiment as a few others have voiced their support of that plan. That just leaves me as the deciding vote. Both arguments have points that appeal to me. Going to the checkpoint means the possibility of getting supplies, and finding our families. But it also means going toward the chaos that's unfolding in Boston._

 _Going west means a chance at starting over, doing well for ourselves. But it also means running the risk of treading through radiation from the blast, not to mention any number of unknown factors that might be out there._

 _Either way, a choice needs to be made. We're almost out of supplies, and staying here isn't an option anymore._

With that, the tape cut out, and they were left with silence of the night and the crackle of the flames. Nate ejected the tape and slid it back into his pack. He'd be lying if he didn't say that curiosity had him. What had happened to Luke and his group of survivors? Had they gone east, looking for family and military aid? Or had they rolled the dice and gone west, looking for a new life?

"Kid had a big heart," Cait commented, earning a puzzled look from the Rifleman.

"What makes you say that?" he asked. From what he had heard, he was just another person trying to survive the hellscape the world had become.

"'E saved that brat that made 'is life a livin' hell when 'e coulda' left 'em blind in the dirt," she explained.

"Things were different then," Nate said softly, staring off into the flames.

"Maybe, but ya can't be weak out here, it'll chew ya up and spit ya out." Nate nodded in agreement, but otherwise remained silent. As much as she didn't want to admit it, curiosity had Cait in it's grip as well. Not so much about the group of pre war teenagers, they'd been dead for almost two centuries now and she could have cared less about them at this point. No, her curiosity was more about the man sitting across the fire from her now. But getting information out of him, or just getting him to talk, was a struggle in and of itself.

Then, it occurred to her that she'd been going about it all wrong these past few weeks on the road. Nate operated on a give and take system. He very rarely did something and expected nothing in return for his effort. So why wouldn't information be any different. If she wanted to know more about him, she'd have to give up some information about herself in exchange.

"Ya got a minute?" she asked. The look she received from across the fire was enough to make her cringe at her choice in wording. Of course he had a minute, he had all the time in the world right now.

"What's on your mind?" Nate asked, not looking away from the flames.

"I was just thinkin' that maybe it's time ya got to know a little more about who ya travelin' with. No reason for us to stay strangers, ya know?" she proposed. Nate remained quiet for a few moments as he pondered what she was proposing.

"I don't see why not," he finally relented.

"You say that now, but when you hear me story ya might regret it," the Irish woman warned. Nate shot her a look, silently telling her either to get on with it or to shut up. Cait took a deep breath and began her story. She began with her childhood, the abuse and general mistreatment she suffered at the hands of her parents. Right up until her eighteenth birthday, when they sold her off into slavery without a second thought.

The five years that followed were the harshest of her life, and yet Cait found herself spilling her guts to her companion about that time like it was nothing. She was stunned to find that not only was Nate listening, but he actually seemed interested in her story. And so she continued telling it, explaining how she had slowly pick pocked enough caps to buy her freedom.

Then, she came to the hardest part of her story; the fate of her parents. Once she was free, Cait had returned to her childhood home in a fit of rage. Although her parents had begged for their lives in fear, she gunned them down right there, firing her gun until it was empty. Cait watched her companion's scarred face for any sigh of reaction. Instead, all the man did was stare somberly into the flames.

"You did what you had to do," he said, as if that solved everything.

"Did I?" she asked bitterly, "When I close me eyes all I can see is their faces twisted with fear. And then me mind starts wanderin' and I start judgin' myself. And it's rippn' me apart! You think I slam that shite into me arm and drink the caps purse dry every time we get near a bar cause I'm a tough Irish girl? I do it to forget." Now an uncomfortable silence fell across the campfire. Cait shifted nervously, waiting, hoping for him to say something. In truth, she just wanted him to say whatever judgmental thing he was going to say so that they could move on.

"I'm proud of you," the Rifleman finally said. Cait blinked. She certainly hadn't expected that to come out of his mouth.

"I knew I was takin' a chance tellin' you all this, but I never expected you to say that you were proud of me," she confessed.

"I'm always here for you, Cait. There's nothing you can say that would change that." Cait's cheeks turned a shade of crimson at that. She was use to harmless flirting, and had done it more then once in an effort to get a rise out of her otherwise usually mute companion. But hearing those words come from him, and sound genuine at that, it put her off.

"I..umm..I...I wasn't expectin' you to say something like that either," she said, stumbling over her words. Her companion flashed her the ghost of a smile across the fire.

"That's what friends do, isn't it?" he asked.

"Aye, I suppose your right," she agreed. Another silence fell upon them, and Cait tinkered with her bat nervously. She quickly realized that if she wanted the conversation to continue, she'd have to take the initiative.

"So...since ya know about me, isn't it fair I get to ask a few questions about you?" she asked.

"Ask away." Cait chose how she was going to proceed very carefully. She needed to start small, and work her way up to the bigger questions.

"Why haven't ya given the flea bag a name?" she asked. Nate looked down at the dog beside him and scratched him behind the ears. The dog let out his tongue and panted happily up at his master.

"Haven't really thought about it. Up until you started tagging along there really wasn't a need for one," he explained. Cait had to pause for a moment to think about that. She thought back over all she'd seen in the relationship between this man and his dog. The two didn't really have a speaking relationship. In fact, the majority of commands were issued with Nate giving off a whistle. So she could see where the subject of a name had never really applied until she had shown up.

"What happened with..." she trailed off, waving her hand over her face to indicate his burn scars. Nate gave a hollow smile as he continued to look at the fire.

"An incendiary grenade exploded not far from my face. I was lucky to survive, much less make it out with the amount of damage you see here," he said. Cait took another look at his scars and flinched. She'd been through a lot of beatings and other forms of pain, but she couldn't imagine the pure hell that came with being burned in the face with an unquenchable fire. Her respect, and sympathy with her companion had just grown a little.

"Where exactly do you call home?" she asked. She was well aware of his place in Sanctuary, but that was still a relatively new settlement. Where did Nate Adams hang his hat before the settlement had come into existence?

"The answer to that question is better shown then told," he answered cryptically.

 **And Cut. I was going to have the story of Luke and his friends be it's own separate piece, but with my current work load and a lack of motivation, that never came to be. However, instead of letting this idea just float away into the dark, I decided to incorporate it with Wanderer. Wright Tape chapters are going to be a story within a story, and they shouldn't majorly intrude on Nate's story.**

 **So please, let me know via review, PM, or some other means what you guys felt about this chapter. Feedback is always welcome, and with that, I'll see you all in the next one.**


	6. Swan

**Hey guys, I've redone the end of this chapter and uploaded it again. I felt it wasn't quite enough so it was time for a quick revamp.**

 _Sanctuary._

 _"_ What are we doin' back here?" Cait asked as they stepped off the foot bridge. The trio had made a quick stop off in Diamond City to sell the gear they had scavenged before making their way back north again. Not that the Irish woman minded coming back to what had essentially become their base of operations. The place's bar was gaining some notoriety, rivaling some of the other establishments in the Commonwealth such as the Third Rail, the Dugout Inn, and the Colonial Taphouse, and because of that she was more then happy to drink the place dry.

No, what had her confused was the subject of their last conversation. Nate had told her it was better to show her where he came from rather then tell her. With that, she had expected for them to head off in any direction, not come straight back here.

"There's something I need to do. Something I've been putting off for a while," her companion answered as he led the way forward. Rather then turn left toward the town gate, Nate kept walking forward, stepping off the road onto a dirt path that led between the old houses into the woods. Cait cast a glance down at the dog, who looked back up at her as if to say that he was just as confused as she was.

They followed him down the path, across a small old rickety bridge, and up a hillside. At the top of the hill was an old Vault Tec billboard and a collapsing rusted chain link fence. Scattered around the gate were several skeletons, most of which were dressed in prewar attire. Nate just stepped past all of this as if he had seen it all before.

Cait found herself standing in what she figured was some prewar construction site, what with the rusting heavy machinery and shipping containers that were scattered about. Nate led the way to the peak of the hill, which was covered in a giant concrete and metal disk. Faded and worn sky blue paint covered the disk, and a gear outlined in yellow could be seen in the center. Painted in white were the faded words Vault 111 circling the center.

"Is there a Vault around here, somewhere?" she asked.

"Just stand in the center of the circle," Nate instructed. The redhead did as she was told, planting her boots firmly over the words in the center. Nate hurried into a small metal structure next to the disk and pushed a giant red button on a console. Cait almost jumped out of her skin as the sound of an alarm began to blare.

The Rifleman hurried back to her side, coming to a halt just as the gear began to lower into the earth. Cait quickly realized that they were standing on an elevator. The ride down was silent, except for the screech of metal against metal as the two hundred year old machines did their job.

At the bottom of the shaft, the Irish woman realized that she was looking at the entrance to a Vault. Nate stepped off the elevator, leading the way up a flight of stairs and through the giant cog shaped door that was standing wide open. Cait followed, looking around in awe as she had never been inside a Vault before.

"Why haven't I heard of this place?" she asked. Most of the Vaults in the Commonwealth were at least somewhat common knowledge, even if their exact locations weren't. Just about all of them had been converted either into gang hideouts or base of operations for the Gunners. All except for Vault 81, and this one apparently.

"There was no one to spread the tales," Nate answered as he stepped over a skeleton wearing a Vault jumpsuit with faded golden 111 embroidered on the back. He opened a sliding door and led the way down a long hallway. At the end of the hall, it opened into a large rectangular room with several large machines sitting in it. Eight of them to be exact, four on each side of the room

As they stepped into the room, Cait realized that they were pods of some kind. Only one of them was standing open, the one at the far end of the row on the left. Nate walked forward slowly, taking off his hat as he went. Rather then focus on the open pod, his attention was on the one opposite of it.

He pulled a lever on a panel next to the pod and stepped back as the door swung upward. Cait wasn't sure what she expected to find, but it certainly wasn't this. There was a body inside the pod, a woman of African decent with short black hair and wearing a Vault jumpsuit. Her body was coated in ice, which was what had preserved her for so long.

"Nate?" she asked, turning to her companion in confusion.

"Cait this is...Nora. Nora Adams. My...my wife," Nate said, taking a shuttering breath. The cage fighter instantly realized that her otherwise stoic and silent companion was just barely keeping it together.

"Oh...I...are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah..just...give me a minute," came the reply.

"Alright, I'll be over here if you need to talk," she said, pointing over her shoulder with her thumb. She stepped away, looking over the place as she waited. It didn't her long to realize that all of the other pods in the room were the same as the one with Nate's wife. They each contained a frozen corpse. It quickly dawned on her that this wasn't a Vault, it was a tomb.

"Cait?" She turned at the mention of her name to find that Nate was still staring at his wife's corpse.

"What ya need?" she asked.

"Go on and get yourself a drink. I...I'm gonna be a little bit," he said. Cait gave her companion a wary look, but didn't press the matter.

"Alright. We'll be down at the bar if ya need us. Come on, ya flee bag," she said, directing the last part at the dog. Nate stood rooted to the spot until he heard the screech of the elevator heading back to the surface. Now there was only silence, except for the occasional drop of water hitting the floor as the interior of the pod began to thaw out.

Finally, he reached out and pulled the lever next to the pod again, allowing the door to swing down and seal it with a hiss. He wasn't going to bury her, not to only have some wild dog or other creature wandering this hell scape to come along and dig her up again. No, the pod and the Vault were the best possible places for her.

Reaching into his pack, Nate produced a holotape. He'd found it a little while back in a nightstand at the Dugout Inn, but had packed it away and hadn't bothered to listen to it until now. Written in black ink on top of the tape were the words; 'Join the Railroad'.

Ah yes, the mythical Railroad. The underground organization dedicated to fighting the Institute. Ever since he had first emerged from this Vault a few months earlier, he'd heard whispers about them all over the place. From Bunker Hill to Diamond City, people spoke about the Railroad in the same fashion that they spoke about the Institute; in hushed tones. As if speaking about either organization out loud would cause them to suddenly appear.

Nate opened the tape drive on his pipboy and slid the tape in. As the tape began to play, a woman's voice echoed over the otherwise silent Vault.

 _'Wake up, Commonwealth. Synths are not your enemy. They are victims in this war, as well. True, they were created by the Institute. But they were created as slaves. Thinking, feeling, and dreaming beings utterly oppressed by their tyrannical masters. So join us in fighting the real enemy: The Institute. Join the Railroad. When you're ready for that next step, don't worry, we'll find you.'_

With that, Nate ejected the tape and returned it to his pack. This was the only clue he had regarding this organization and how to find it. That, and a phrase that had been whispered in the back alleys; Follow the Freedom Trail. Nate let out a sigh. The Freedom Trail was a prewar tourist gimmick designed to show off the landmarks in downtown Boston. Which meant that the Railroad was hidden somewhere right smack dab in the middle of a war zone. Nothing it seemed was ever easy in this new world.

"No more fucking around," he finally said out loud to the pod as he returned his hat to his head, "I'm gonna get our son back." And with that, he turned and walked back out of the Vault. It had been mid afternoon when he and Cait had descended into the Vault. He had been down there for so long that the sun had fully set and a bright, moonless star filled sky was overhead now.

Sanctuary didn't actually have any electric lighting, but rather had several old fashioned street oil lamps to light the settlement after dark. The only generator inside the makeshift walls was one of medium size that sat near the heart of the settlement, powering the main water pump. Sturges may have had the know how to rig up a makeshift power grid, but they didn't have the resources at the moment to do so, nor the power to spare.

So they were stuck using oil lamps, candles, and the occasional fire barrel to light up the night. Was it a fire hazard? Absolutely. But it was a risk they were willing to take. Of course, it made patrolling the walls after the sun set a lot harder, although Nate and the others had worked hard to make this place a virtual fortress. There was a watchman for every section of the wall that wasn't covered by a gun turret, so the Rifleman had faith that his home was safe

The town bar was something of a different story. It was a two story building that had been built on the foundation of an old collapsed house in the old neighborhood's roundabout. The place resembled a wooden box with a bright red door on the front and a sign reading 'Liquors' hanging overhead. Inside were several small tables all scattered about with burning candles on top of each one. To the right was a pool table, and hanging from the wall just beyond that was the blue flag of the Minutemen. Sconces lined the walls, adding extra lighting.

The bar itself sat off toward the back of the place. A chemistry station was set up in the corner behind the bar so that the bartender could cook up drinks or drugs or whatever the patrons wanted. Drinks of all kinds lined the shelf that hung from the wall behind the bar, and dominating the center of it all was a pair of stuffed radstag heads that had been mounted. Along the wall, opposite of the pool table was a staircase that led up to the second floor, where the guest rooms were located.

It was here that Nate finally located his companion, along with most of the other townspeople who had either just finished their watch shift, or were blowing off steam after a long day of working. Cait was in a back corner, having a drinking contest with one of the off duty guards while a few of his bodies watched. The Rifleman made his way to the bartender, rather then his companion directly.

"Cullen, she behaving herself?" he asked. The man he was referring to, Cullen, was a tall, broad man with a shaved head and a well kept beard. He'd been one of the first settlers in Sanctuary, arriving shortly after Diamond City Radio had announced the settlements founding. Originally he'd worked with the Belkov brothers at the Dugout Inn, but had made his way north hoping to find his own place, which he had done.

"Yeah, for the most part. It's when the arm wrestling gets started that has me worried," the barkeep answered as he wiped down a glass.

"I'm putting her on my tab. Drink, Chem, whatever she wants she can have. I'll pay it all off when I get back," he said.

"Where ya headed?" Cullen asked, a curious glint in his eye.

"South. I'm leaving tonight. If Cait sobers up before I get back, tell her I had something to tend to on my own," he answered.

"Can do," he said with a shrug. The people of Sanctuary were use to Nate not talking very much, and him just up and heading off on his own at random times, so this was nothing new to the bartender. As for Cait, she was too deep into the bottle and her contest to notice her companion come, much less vanish into the night like a ghost.

 _Diamond City Market._

It was early morning, almost six or so when Nate arrived in Diamond City after having walked all night. The sky was a gray overcast in the predawn hour, slowly growing brighter as the sun began to rise. Coming here hadn't been his favorite idea, but so far it was the only one that made a lick of sense. He would have preferred to go looking on his own. It would be easier to slip past the various dangers that way. But when it came to something as illusive as the Railroad, he was going to need all the help he could get.

Unfortunately, that help came in the form of a reporter that had been a royal pain in his ass.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, the Rifleman dropped his cigarette into the mud and passed through the door of Publick Occurrences. Despite the early hour, Piper was hard at work over her printing press, churning out copies of the day's paper. Nate didn't make a sound as he walked up and picked up one of the copies, curious to see what the reporter and shelled out.

"Fabled Treasure actually Fabled Junk," he read out loud. Despite the noise of the press, Piper jumped about a foot into the air.

"Jesus, Blue, you scared the crap out of me!" Nate merely smirked, not taking his eyes off of the paper in his hands as he read Piper's account of their venture into Jamaica Plain. Piper quickly shut down the machine and grabbed a rag to wipe away the ink that was on her hands.

"So what brings you buy? I thought I was gonna have to hike all the way up to Sanctuary just to catch a glimpse of you again," she said.

"There's something I need to get done. Seeing as how you're the nosiest person in the Commonwealth, I figured I could use your help on the matter," he explained.

"Oh, so now I'm useful. What do you need?" she asked.

"The Railroad." Piper cocked her eyebrow at him.

"What do you want them for?"

"I just need help finding them. Can you help me or not?" he asked. Piper sighed.

"Blue the only thing I know is what everyone else knows: Follow the Freedom Trail."

"Yeah, I got that part."

"The other thing I know is that the Freedom Trail starts in the Common," Piper said. Nate's eyes narrowed at that. He'd been past Boston Common a few times during his ventures into the city. People spoke of the place in fear, and there were signs up on all sides, warning people to stay away.

"The Common, yay," he said with a sarcastic tone.

"You wanna know more, you gotta let me come with," Piper said. Nate sighed and let his head fall back. This was something he'd seen coming from a mile off. Piper smelled a story, and she was going to dig in like a tick until she got it.

"Fine. Just keep up and don't get yourself shot," he said. The reporter beamed from ear to ear before she raced to throw on her red jacket and gather some supplies for the trip. Sticking her lucky press hat on her head, Piper kissed her sister on the head and hurried out the door after the Rifleman.

 _Boston Common._

Nate crouched next to the abandoned APC as he scanned the Common through the scope of his rifle. It was mid morning now, with the sun shining down over the buildings. The longer he looked, the more confused he got. He couldn't see anything that would indicate any kind of danger. In fact, the Common seemed completely devoid of life aside from the occasional crow.

"So what's got everyone's panties in a twist about this place?" he asked.

"It's Swan's Pond," Piper replied, her voice kept at an unusually low tone for her. Whatever was here, it had her terrified. The Rifleman shifted his scope so that he was looking at the pond in the Common. There wasn't much, just an old swan shaped boat and a pile of junk. Other then that, the water was covered with moss, trash, and other bits of things due to not being tended to for two hundred years.

"Looks like everyone is afraid of a plastic bird," he said.

"Not the boat, idiot! There's something in the water," Piper hissed.

"Please. The water in that thing is like three feet deep, max, what could be hiding in there?" he asked. Not receiving an answer from Piper, Nate stood and walked toward the pond. He kept his rifle at the ready just in case he was wrong and there was actually something in the water. And yet despite how close he got, nothing happened. He slipped past the rod iron fence that lined the Common and quickly found himself standing at the water's edge.

A light breeze picked up, blowing some of the leaves and sludge that had built up on the water around. He continued forward, walking past some trees. The swan boat he had seen earlier was on his right, while an old green boathouse was on his left. So far, he hadn't seen anything that warranted all of this fear. The locals, it seemed, were just jumpy.

Picking up a small stone, Nate tossed it once into the air before catching it again. He'd wanted to do so many things when it came to his son. Skipping stones on the water was one of them. He was gonna take him down to the river and teach him to skip rocks. But now, though, that seemed like a long odd in and of itself. With a sigh, the Rifleman skipped the stone across the pond before turning to head back toward Piper.

The water suddenly exploded, causing Nate to duck out of instinct. Looking up, he found himself face to face with the largest Super Mutant he had ever seen. It was wearing parts of a swan boat all over its body like makeshift armor. An ear shattering roar billowed from the creature's throat as it looked down upon the rifleman.

He'd been wrong. Very, very wrong.

"Shit!" He brought his rifle up and fired it into the face of the beast. But it was like he had only slapped it. The Mutant realed back from the bullet, roaring in pain and anger before grabbing Nate around the waist and throwing him over its shoulder. Nate tumbled through the air like a rag doll before splashing down in the pond behind the Mutant.

"BLUE!" Piper screamed. Any terror for this place she may have felt vanished, replaced with panic as she watched her friend. Did she really know this man? No, in fact, the majority of their relationship was him trying to get her to leave him alone. But she considered him a friend all the same. Which was why she leveled her pistol and emptied the clip at the Mutant.

A few splotches of red appeared on the creature's sickly green hide, indicating that the reporter had indeed hit her target. However this only seemed to make it even more angry, as it picked up a rather large stone and hurled it at her. Piper let out a yelp before she dove for cover, narrowly missing the rock as it impacted the side of the APC she was hiding behind.

Sliding a new clip into her pistol, she peaked out around the military vehicle again, trying to formulate a plan. What she saw next was a sight she would not soon forget. Behind the Mutant, Nate burst out of the water, brandishing both of his 10mm pistols. With water streaming down his form, the Rifleman leveled the handguns and began to squeeze the triggers.

The Mutant roared in surprise, clearly not expecting to be shot from behind. It turned to face the new threat, which was a mistake. Nate sloshed through the water, moving to the side of the beast as he fired. When his pistols clicked empty, he turned and focused on getting out of the pond and around the Mutant.

Finally getting free of the scum covered water, the Rifleman vaulted over the rod iron fence that ran around the perimeter of the Common. He landed on his feet and made a mad dash toward the APC, narrowly dodging the rock that smashed the fence where he had been just a millisecond earlier. Piper watched all of this in awe, until she realized that Nate was running straight at her.

"Get in!" he yelled as a large rock sailed past him. Swan roared, but wasn't advancing past the edge of the Common.

"What are we doing?" she asked as Nate grabbed her hand and led her inside the APC.

"Improvising," came the answer. The Rifleman tore past the explosive crate that was sitting inside and went directly for the inner hatch. A loud bang came from the side of the vehicle, a sign that Swan had taken to throwing large stones at them.

"Blue, this thing hasn't moved in two hundred years," Piper said when she realized that Nate had entered into the old driver and gunner's positions.

"Neither has half the suits of power armor I've salvaged. Military built shit to last, let's just hope that applies here," he replied. As he flipped several switches and tore through the old machinery, Piper braced herself as another boulder caused the whole machine to rock. Nate opened a panel, revealing several wires along with a circular slot.

"What is that?"

"Fusion Core slot. These things ran off them like overgrown power armor. Looks of things, the core was salvaged years ago, but, with the right tools..." he was interrupted as something much larger slammed into the side of the APC. Piper peaked out of one of the viewing slots and realized that Swan had uprooted one of the smaller trees and had thrown that at them.

"I don't think we can start this thing up and just drive it out of here," she said.

"Who said anything about starting it?" he asked as he produced a fusion core and slammed it home into the slot. Instantly, he was rewarded with the sound of several things powering up. The Rifleman grinned before he took control of a small control stick, leaning it to the left. A clanking sound filled the air, and Piper realized that the turret on top of the APC was moving.

That is, until it stopped. Nate's grin vanished as he yanked on the stick again and again, only to be rewarded with the sound of the turret groaning in protest. He cursed before looking through the turret sight, trying to figure out where he was aiming.

"What's wrong?"

"Auto turret control is rusted out, I gotta turn it manually," he answered before grabbing a metal crank and turning it with all his might. The turret slowly turned, but gave out a high pitched whine as metal that hadn't moved in two centuries was forced to do so again. Sweat was pouring down Nate's face as he finally got the gun into the position he wanted. It was only now that it dawned on Piper what he was intending to do.

"Wait, you're not gonna..." she said, trailing off as Nate opened the breech to the gun and slid an old round inside.

"Yep." The Rifleman didn't even think twice as he pressed the button on the fire control. Instantly the cannon fired, the sound deafening the two and echoing off the buildings around them. The reporter blinked and shook her head, her ears ringing. But as the ringing subsided, she realized that she couldn't hear the angry grunts of the Mutant outside. The rocks and other bits of junk he had been throwing at them had also stopped. Looking out the view slot again, she was rewarded with the sight of Swan sprawled out on his back by the pond.

The Super Mutant Behemoth had been decapitated entirely by the artillery round. But the destruction hadn't stopped there as the ancient copper statue and shack that had been behind him had been smashed to bits. Nate was panting as he ejected the fusion core from it's slot and returned it to his bag.

"How's that for a story, eh?" he asked.

"Holy crap, Blue," Piper whispered, in awe at what she had just witnessed.

 _Bunker Hill._

Joe Savoldi was a broad man with graying hair. Having run the bar in Bunker Hill his whole life, he'd seen all kinds of people pass through. Everyone came through the Hill eventually. Raiders, caravans, traders, farmers, scavengers, mercs, everyone.

That being said, the man sitting before him at the bar was something of an enigma.

He appeared to be in his late twenties or so. Not a caravan guard or mercenary, he was too lightly armed for that. The pipboy on his arm suggested he might have been a well off scavenger. But he was to well dressed to be a scavenger, and he didn't appear to have any luggage other then a small pack and the clothing on his back. He had short black hair, skin that had been tanned from years of walking under an unforgiving sun. The sleeves on his long leather duster were rolled up past his elbows while the tails of his jacket came to an end at about his knee caps. His trousers were an off stone color, and the old motor cycle boots he wore came up to about mid calf. The old bartender had seen outfits like this before, usually worn by bounty hunters.

"What can I get for you?" Joe asked.

"Information," came the reply as he sat a few caps down on the bar.

"What do you need?"

"I'm looking for someone, but I don't know the area that well. I need someone to help me track," he said. Joe thought for a moment as he scooped up the caps.

"If you're looking for someone who gets stuff done, I'd recommend Nate Adams," he said.

"Nate Adams?"

"Yeah. He's a real wandering type. Does a lot of odd jobs for money. But his work is quality. If you need a tracker, you could do way worse," Joe said. The bartender had met Nate a time or two when he'd passed through the Hill. He'd done work for the Hill, and Joe had found him to be rather enjoyable when he'd stopped by for a drink or two.

"Where do I find him?"

"Well I can think of a few places he might show up. Here, Diamond City for sure, best place though, I'd say Sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?"

"Yeah, it's a little community off in the northern frontier. You wanna find Adams? You're gonna have to start there," Joe said. The man laid another set of caps down the bar before he stood and started to walk away.

"Hey, I never got your name" Joe said. The man stopped and looked back at him over his shoulder with a grin.

"I guess you could say I'm a wanderer. A Lone Wanderer."

 **And cut. Some action, some back story, a little change up. What will happen next, I wonder. Remember, review, PM, or send SOMETHING to let me know what you liked or didn't like, and I'll see you all next time.**


	7. The Freedom Trail

**Hey guys, I'm back with another chapter. It's been a few months but I figured it was time to get a new one out. So without further delay, let's get on with it:**

"You have got to be one of the craziest people I have ever met. And considering I've dealt with the Children of Atom, that's saying something," Piper said as they walked along the edge of the Common. Nate went to light a new cigarette, but stopped when he realized the pack he had been smoking on had been damaged during the fight with Swan. With an irritated groan, he let the pack fall to the ground before continuing on, ignoring the reporter as he went.

Not far from the entrance to the station where he had found Valentine, Nate and Piper came across an old, large fountain. Leaning against the fountain was a large wooden slab with blue writing panted on it. _At Journey's End Follow Freedom's Lantern._

"7A," Nate said as he noticed a seal in the ground, marking the start of the red line that was the Freedom Trail.

"Well, all the stories do say 'Follow the Freedom Trail'," Piper said. Nate let out another irritated sigh.

"This is a fucking tourist gimmick," he said before they set off. The Trail, or whomever had chosen it's usage for this purpose, seemed determined to kill anyone who was gutsy enough to follow it. It led past Old Granary Burying Ground, which was an old cemetery full of Feral Ghouls, and a partially collapsed building that served as a base for a group of Super Mutants.

The Ghouls proved easy enough to deal with, but the Super Mutants had them pinned down in a firefight for longer then either of them would have liked. By the time they reached the entrance to Goodneighbor, the companions were exhausted and the sinking sun was casting an orange glow on the buildings.

"Goodneighbor, huh? You looking to get stoned or stabbed?" Piper asked as they stepped through the main gate. Nate didn't answer her. All he was looking for was a chance to resupply, get a drink and a place to sleep, and then push on first thing in the morning. He led the way to the entrance to the Third Rail.

Although he had been to Goodneighbor before, Nate had never actually been inside the local bar/jazz club. His trips hadn't really warranted it, as he had usually been busy with a job or something else at the time. Now though seemed like a good time as any to check the place out. Inside the old entrance to the station was a ghoul wearing a black tuxedo and fedora.

"Hancock says newcomers are welcome in the Third Rail, go on in," the ghoul said in a raspy voice. Nate tipped the brim of his hat as they went past and down the stairs. The bar had been built into an old subway station. Many of the old tunnels had been either walled off or had collapsed, the tracks had been covered with wooden planks extended outward from the old platform. Several chairs and tables were scattered around the dimly lit room. Behind the bar was an old Mr. Handy with a bowler hat on top of it's central dome.

The barroom was dimly lit, with most of the lights being focused on a small makeshift stage in the corner. A woman with long black hair wearing a red sequence dress was on stage, singing a slow song. Piper was stunned by her appearance. Most women in the Commonwealth wore whatever rags they could find and only bathed once a week if they were lucky. This one though, she put effort into her appearance to say the least.

If her companion took notice of the singer, Piper never saw it. Instead, Nate made his way to the bar, eying a few of the patrons as he passed. The robot that hovered behind the bar was cleaning out a glass with a rag, having two of it's eye stalks focused on it's current task while the third focused on Nate.

"Oi. We got beer. And if you ain't buyin' beer, you ain't buyin'," it said with a British accent.

"What about whiskey?" Nate asked.

"Hm. Got some of that. It's Irish, if that means anythin' to ya," the robot said.

"Not overly," came the reply, along with a small handful of caps on the bar top. The Mr. Handy scooped up the caps before setting a brown bottle on the bar along with a couple of glasses. Nate took them both before heading toward a side room labeled as VIP. Piper had to take her eyes off the singer before she realized that she was being left behind. By the time she got into the VIP lounge, the hair on the back of her neck was standing up, indicating trouble.

Nate was on the far side of the room, in a corner setting the bottle and glasses he had collected down. There were three other men in the room. Two of them were wearing Gunners outfits, while the third wore a green hat and a long duster. The Gunners were standing in the middle of the room, while the third man was reclined in a fancy chair with a drink in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other.

"You're still taking jobs in Gunner territory, MacCready. That's not going to stand," one of the Gunners was saying.

"I don't take orders from you anymore. So why don't you take your girlfriend and walk outa here while you still can," the one sitting down replied.

"What?! Winlock, tell me we don't have to listen to this shit," the other Gunner said, turning to his partner. The one who had spoken first, Winlock, kept his head, knowing that the youth in front of them was trying to get a rise out of them.

"Listen up, MacCready. The only reason we haven't filled your body full of bullets is that we don't want a war with Goodneighbor. See, we respect other people's boundaries. We know how to play the game. That's something you never learned," he said. The young man, MacCready, swirled his drink some.

"Glad to have disappointed you," he said, not even bothering to look at Winlock before taking a sip. The Gunner in question gave an amused chuckle.

"You can play tough guy all you want. But if we hear you're still operating inside Gunner Territory all bets are off, you got that?"

"You finished?" MacCready asked in an annoyed tone, glaring up at the pair of Gunners.

"Yeah, we're finished. Come on, Barnes," Winlock said before the two mercs turned and stormed out of the room, roughly pushing their way past Piper as they went. It was only after the two had left did the reporter take notice of her companion's stance. He was standing with a stiff back, right hand hovering over one of his pistols, ready to draw. Nate had listened in on the entire conversation, and had been prepared to draw and fire should the situation deteriorate.

Now that the main threat was gone though, the Rifleman relaxed his stance. He went back to preparing a glass for himself, which apparently didn't escape MacCready's notice. The young man sat and watched for a while, eying the newcomer closely. When Nate did finally turn back toward him, he spoke up first.

"Look pal, if you're preaching about Atom or looking for a friend, you've come to the wrong guy. But if you need a hired gun, we can talk," he said.

"Actually I was gonna ask for a smoke. But since you brought up the topic, I might have use for a hired gun. Assuming you can handle it," Nate said. MacCready handed him a cigarette.

"You're joking, right? I've been doing this since I was a kid. I know my way around. Hell, I use to run around with the Gunners," he said.

"You're acting like I'm suppose to know what you're talking about," Nate said as he lit his cigarette. MacCready looked down at his drink and swirled it again. The Rifleman's comment had deflated his ego a little.

"Maybe it's better that you don't. I don't want the stink of Winlock and Barnes rubbing off on me and scaring off work," he said before taking another sip, "what about you? How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?"

"You don't. But that's part of the fun, right?" Nate asked.

"Can't argue with that. Alright, what's the job?" MacCready asked.

"I got a place up North that needs looking after. It's boring most of the time, but the pay is good, and steady," Nate offered. MacCready looked into his drink and swirled it again in thought. Then, he finished it all in one go.

"Guard duty is boring, but I'll do just about anything if the money is good. Alright, boss, count me in," he said before standing. The two men shook hands, and Piper realized that they were about the same height and around the same age.

"Nate Adams," Nate said, offering his hand to shake.

"Robert MacCready. But most people just call me RJ or MacCready."

* * *

"It's a real shame to see a place like this neglected," Piper said. They were sanding inside the main sanctuary of the Old North Church. Based on the burnt pews and large hole in the ceiling, a fire had torn the guts out of this place long ago. However other then a few Ferals, there were no signs of life.

"It use to be quite a beautiful place," Nate laminated as he looked upward toward the morning sky beyond the opening in the ceiling. Following the Freedom Trail had led them here, where the drawing of a lantern by the door had led them inside. Now, here was the drawing of another lantern, above a door which lead deeper into the church.

Nate led the way with his rifle at the ready should more Ferals be present. The doorway with the drawing led downward, into a series of brick tunnels that wound their way beneath the church. That passed several stone markers with names carved on them, indicating that these were graves. However these graves had been here for hundreds of years as evidenced by some of the dates on them. It was the occasional skeleton with more modern clothing that Nate found more interesting. Evidently these people had sought refuge down here when the bombs fell, and had died regardless.

"How far down do you think these go?" Piper asked.

"A long way. There are tunnels all over North End," Nate answered as he stepped over another skeleton.

"This place gives me the willies," she said. Nate acknowledged her comment with a hum, but continued onward. Finally they came to a dead end. However there was another lantern panted on the floor, and the same seal of the Freedom Trail they had seen before on the wall.

"There's gotta be a secret door here or something, there's no way they'd lead someone all this way for nothing," Piper said as she felt all along the brick wall. Nate wasn't so sure. He'd seen people do a lot of sick things for a quick laugh before, so this would be nothing new. However he hadn't come this far just to be stopped by a brick wall. He was gonna find a way in, one way or another.

Looking over the seal again, Nate noticed that there was a wire connecting the seal to a section of wall. Taking a closer look at the seal, he found that the stone ring around the center of the seal could spin rather easily. He looked back and forth between the seal and the wall before letting out a groan.

"Don't tell me it's that easy," he said as he slung his rifle across his back. Moving the ring, he spelled out the one word that came to mind. _R.A.I.L.R.O.A.D._ The sound of stone scraping on stone filled the air as a section of wall slid back and then moved out of the way, revealing another passage forward. The two companions looked at each other before Nate activated the light on his Pipboy and led the way forward. They walked forward into the gloom, with Nate holding his arm up in order to illuminate the way forward.

They both jumped when a spotlight suddenly illuminated them, blinding them with it's sudden glare. As their eyes adjusted, they realized they were in a wide room. On the opposite side of the room were three people. The man on the right had a pipe pistol leveled at them, while the woman on the right had a minigun with the barrels spinning. However it was the woman standing in the middle who commanded the most attention.

"Stop right there." the woman commanded. Both Nate and Piper raised their hands, knowing that if they made one wrong move, they'd be torn to shreds before they could react.

"You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting. But before we go any further, you're gonna answer a few questions. Who the hell are you?" the woman continued.

"We followed the Freedom Trail looking for the Railroad. We aren't your enemies," Nate said.

"If that's true, you have nothing to fear. How did you hear about us?"

"How did I not? You guys have stories all over the place, from Diamond City to Bunker Hill," he said as a man with black hair and sunglasses entered the room behind the small trio.

"Hm. I'm Desdemona, leader of the Railroad. And you are...Deacon, where have you been?" Desdemona asked when she took notice of the newcomer.

"You're having a party, what gives with my invitation?" Deacon asked.

"I need intel, who are these two?" she asked, motioning toward the two companions on the far side of the room. Deacon turned his attention to them and lowered his shades slightly.

"The chick is Piper Wright. She runs the newspaper out of Diamond City. As for him, wow, newsflash boss, he's kind of a big deal out there."

"You know me?" Nate asked, his face scrunched up in confusion.

"I don't need to have met you to have heard about you. We owe you a crate, hell a truckload of Nuka Cola for what you did to Kellogg. He was our public enemy number one," Deacon said.

"So you're vouching for him?" Desdemona asked.

"Yes, God yes. Dez, he is absolutely someone we want on our side," Deacon urged. Desdemona cupped her chin in thought.

"This changes things. So, stranger, tell me, why did you want to meet with us?" she asked.

"I have my reasons," Nate answered, a somewhat annoyed expression on his face. Piper knew first hand that he absolutely did not like having his issues pried into.

"Alright. If we're going to be working together, we need to be on the same page. You know what a synth is, right?"

"I know enough," Nate answered.

"Good. The Institute treats the synths as property," Desdemona continued.

"Go on."

"We seek to free the synths, to give them a real chance at life. I have a question, the only question that matters. Would you risk your life for your fellow man, even if that man is a synth?" she asked. There was silence as Nate lowered his hands and produced a cigarette. He stuck it in his mouth and lit it before closing his lighter with a soft clink.

"Once, I pledged my life to protect my countrymen. I don't see this as any different," he finally answered. This seemed to sit well with Desdemona, and Piper as well. The reporter only found herself even more curious about her companion.

"Well said. I think we can work together, talk to Deacon about the details," she said. As she and the others began to file out of the room, Nate turned his attention to Deacon. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

"I understand we have a job to discuss."

* * *

Cait didn't know how many days had passed. She wasn't even sure that days had passed. It was all a drunken blur during which she could barely tell the difference between up and down, much less the difference between night and day. However, now that the flow of alcohol and drugs had been cut off, she was slowly returning to the world of the sober.

"Oh what fresh hell is this?" she asked when she realized that she was sitting behind a set of iron bars. She was in some kind of makeshift jail from what she could make out, and it was morning based upon the sunlight that was shining through holes in the ceiling.

"You're awake," the settler that was sitting behind a desk on the other side of the bars said. Cait rubbed her eyes and tried to get a better understanding of her surroundings. She was in a small cell, with an overturned cot and set of blankets. The only form of facilities was a bucket that sat in the far corner.

"Where am I?" she asked as she felt the beginnings of a hangover start to come down on her.

"Sanctuary lock up. We tossed you in for the night in hopes that you'd sober up enough to be civilized again," the man answered. By now, he had stood and circled around the desk so that he was standing right before the bars.

"The bloody hell are ya talkin' about?" Cait asked.

"You and another fiery red head went off the rails in the bar last night. I had to throw you in here after you bit one of my deputies' ears off and broke another's ribs," the man answered. The cage fighter tried to grin, but with her hangover it was more like a grimace. As she looked around, however, she realized that other then herself and the settler, there was no one else in sight.

"Where is she then? Out on good behavior?"

"Not exactly, we got her held outside," the settler replied as he unlocked the cell door and allowed it to swing open before taking a step off to the side. Cait gave him a questioning, cautious look. Given what he himself had just told her about her actions, it was a little surprising that he was letting her go.

"Your time is up. Ordinarily I'd take you to the bridge and throw your ass out to let the Commonwealth handle you. But since you're friends with the boss, you get one last chance. Go find someplace to sober up. I don't care where, just so long as it ain't here," he said. Cait gingerly pushed herself to her feet before she stumbled out of the cell. Her head was spinning, and her stomach was doing flip flops.

"I'd stay clear of your little dance partner when you get out there. She full on bit a guy in the neck, damn near made him bleed out," he warned. Cait gave a halfhearted wave of her hand to acknowledge his warning before she headed outside.

Just outside the lockup, which had been built in a carport across the roundabout from the bar, was a pillory with a woman in it. Her hair was a lighter shade of red then Cait's and much more closely cut to her scalp. She was wearing an outfit similar to what Nate often wore, however she had a newsboy hat on rather then a fedora.

"Come for a rematch, bitch?" the woman growled. Despite the fact that she was hunched over with both her neck and wrists restrained, Cait could tell that the woman had a vicious streak, one that she would rather avoid in her current condition. So rather then answer her, the cage fighter stumbled across to Nate's house.

She pushed the front door open to the shack and walked in, only for her balance to suddenly give out and cause her to fall straight into the table that sat in the middle of the room and knock over a chair in the process. Cait groaned as she tried to push herself back to her feet, only for a wave a nausea to roll over her. She retched, and the contents of her stomach spewed out over the floor. Or, that's what she thought at first. A second look told her that it wasn't vomit, but blood.

"This ain't fuckin' good," she groaned as she tried to stand again. The cage fighter had seen things like this before and she needed to get to the town doctor. She didn't make it two steps to the door before she collapsed again, this time blacking out in the process.

When she came to again, she found she that she was shivering, despite the heat she felt. She was on Nate's bed, still in Nate's house. At first, she wondering if she had somehow managed to get herself into the bed from her position on the floor. However a second look around the room told her that she was not alone like she had originally thought.

Nate was standing on the other side of the room from her, talking with the town doctor, a blonde haired middle aged woman. The rifleman was frowning and his arms were folded as he listened to what the woman had to say. Every once in a while, he'd look past the doctor to her before returning his attention to the woman before him. Finally, the doctor collected her things and walked out of the shack, leaving Nate to stand there looking at her with his arms folded.

"You should see the other broad," Cait said weakly with a tired smile. Nate, however, wasn't smiling.

"You gonna tell me what's going on, or am I gonna have to drag it out of you?" he asked. Cait sat up in the bed and took a few breaths. She wasn't as light headed as before, but her insides still felt all wrong and twisted.

"What did the doc say?" she asked.

"Chems, and a fuck ton of em. You're system is so overloaded it's a miracle you're not farting Jet right now," Nate answered in a deadpan manner.

"What else is new?"

"Cait..." he trailed off, letting her name hang there in the air between the two.

"Alright fine! I'm sick, alright? I can't bloody hide it anymore, I'm sick and I need help!" she snapped.

"You need to take a breath and tell me what's wrong. If you're sick, we'll get you the meds you need," Nate said.

"No, no it's not like that. Ever since I left home I've been using Physco, I don't know why I'm still usin' it but I can't stop and believe me I've tried. I can't go a day without it and I'm sick and tired of it. I've even been doing it behind your back, sneakin' doses when I thought you weren't lookin'," she explained. Nate just raised an eyebrow at her.

"You think you've been slipping under my radar? You must be even more far gone then I thought," he said. This only served to confuse Cait.

"Huh?"

"How could I have missed what you've been doing? Between every Chem vanishing from a raider hideout we work over and then you sitting in a corner for hours at a time with a thousand yard stare, I'd have to have been blind to miss it," he said.

"Then, why didn't you..."

"Say something? Cause it's not my place to. You're a grown ass woman, Cait, I can't make your choice's for you."

"I'm makin my choice now, and I'm askin for ya help. This shite is makin me sick. I'm pukin blood and me insides feel like they're crawlin. I need to get it out of my system or I think I'm gonna wind up dead," she said.

"The doc just left, we can get her back in here to treat you if you want," Nate said. Cait however was shaking her head.

"I've tried that. The shite has been in me system for too long. There's only one other way that I know of, and it's not gonna be easy," she said. Nate made a rolling motion with his hand, silently telling her to quit stalling and spill what she knew.

"There's suppose to be a Vault out there, Vault 95. I heard that Vault Tec stuck a bunch of junkies inside to poke and prod. Supposedly they had a machine or something that they could use to clean up the bloaks inside. If we can get inside, maybe that machine could help me," Cait explained. The rifleman remained silent for a long time. He rubbed his chin and turned away from her, looking out the window behind him.

As more time passed, Cait began to feel her heart sink. She'd just poured out one of her most serious problems to him, begging for his help. Now he was going to do what everyone else had done, skipped out when the going got tough and he was needed the most.

"Do you know where Vault 95 is?" he asked without turning around. Wait, what? Had she heard him right?

"Not really. Somewhere off to the southwest is all I know," she answered hesitantly. Cait didn't want to get her hopes up. There was still a chance he would bail on her, decide that hassle wouldn't be worth it. Then she would be right back to square one, and in terms of loneliness it would be like she had never even left the Combat Zone.

"I know a guy in Diamond City who's collected data on the Vaults located in the Commonwealth. If there's anyone who knows where your Vault 95 is, it'll be him," Nate said. Cait almost couldn't believe her ears.

"You're...you're gonna help me?" Nate turned and gave her a stupefied look as if she had just said something incredibly dumb.

"What kind of a question is that? No shit, Sherlock, of course I'm gonna help you," he said.

"I...I...Thank you," she stammered, clearly taken off guard.

"Get some rest and get your strength back. We got a lot of ground to cover."

 **And cut. We got some new people, and some more development. What do you guys think? Drop a review, leave a PM, let me know what you liked or didn't like. Let me know, and I'll see you all in the next one.**


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